[164] In The Small

I heard the tick, then the tock the wind blew and time moved without a sound or bright lights reliable, consistent, on the stroke like...

It's been days now with uncertain skies and gentle mists awakening me at dawn. Oh bliss, permission to enter the abyss to write a poem...

It's natural to flourish, to yearn to be Like a tree, a plant, a flower, reaching, growing, toward the sun sometimes even taking great...