a diary of words, paper and other ephemeral things

where do you see reflections of yourself?

Feet pull me out the door

And wind runs fingers

through my hair

It’s familiar:

this soft, electric air

between the storms

Damp earth sinks beneath me

I fall into lush moss

and vibrant greens

alive with rain

I see myself here

reflected back

by tree roots

and budding leaves

There is family here

in heavy water drops

and curious bird eyes