A place to gather words before they get lost.
No single leaf falls without a sound - even if no one's around to listen - the ground hears it, the critters, too
Some days, the forest music shimmers uncertain:
like buds in Spring the ice of Winter the crunch of Autumn the breeze of Summer
So we meander in, quiet, and wander along, with ears open, hoping for song
A twisting story of dead flowers and of vines twines through the backyard
The first in a phase, a New Moon silhouetted, bent against the sky
Constellations swirl in cosmic dust; all of us together as one
Fingertip measure: peppercorn and other spice give pep to the dish
'tis the season for neither rhyme nor reason — no, wait — I rhymed that line that time — oh darn, and there I go again — forgive me, my friend, and allow me to make amends — oops, well, I suppose it's a songwriter's curse, and what's worse is that I actually tried — no, wait, hold that: I lied
for #ds106 Daily Create
Neither a rat race nor snail's pace – we walk along keeping our own pace
Sunshine deception: what looks warm from the inside chills you on the out
for Algot
The water whispers mist – a kettle of white tea cooling in a cup
Wander with intent; Somewhere, hides a small clover in a field of green