i am a knitter,  a weaver, a healer… when i unravel, i cast off my troubles, knit in the threads, of joy once again, mending my snags. as i travel on. 11.28.17

slate blue sky hearkens winter’s arrival but trees weep only brown leaves, no vibrant colors like a peacock’s tail to usher in the season with panache, just a cool which hastens but doesn’t bite and a coating of brown on a paler green. 11.27.17

rested days crumble stress like fine sand, sifting between fingers, then swept by the wind. a part of me blows away with all that i worry but the bliss remains. 11.26.17 [Image Source]

i bury in bed to escape the night’s chill longing for warmth of love lain beside me, heating with passion not easily quelled, pressing soft skin, full weight down upon me. but blankets and pillows are my own bed mate so i bury down more until desires abate. 11.25.17