eyes bright. soul wise.
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I don’t have many words these days. The sun rays around here have been crystiline. Spring is happening and I can feel myself being re-born. The dead, the stillness of winter is ripening, opening to fertilization. The bulbs in the yard are sprouting. The girls get muddy from gardening. I sit on the deck and watch them with a sigh of relief: they are happy through another transition. I hold this new soul, in this new town, and introduce her to the sea and the sky and the snow covered saw-tooth peaks that surround us. Her body is like an herbal poulitce of pure sedative goodness. We have all been melted, liquified like butter in the sun, from her love and compassion. Everytime I want to collapse in exhaustion or scream in fury, I just breath her in, sit on the couch. And nurse. All is well. All is good.
