each message you send me is a gift
It’s a long way from home. I just moved out into to my own place. My own space. My own independence, my own self-sufficiency.
I own a candle that smells like a poem.
An ageless walk down a remote hiking path. You pass villages and farms and mountains. The air feels cool and crisp, a…
I didn’t fall into poetry. It wasn’t foreign to me, but it also wasn’t familiar. I had trouble following it sometimes, and…
A long to-do list. Laundry that is long past needed doing. Packing for the move. Fixing things around the house.
