Compartments

Ancient History

Skirting the barren

I’ve been quiet around here lately, probably because late winter makes laser beams shoot out of my eyes and ears and not in a cool Saturday night dance party kind of way. The crust of the earth is a fallow cracking shell, blanketed by snow, ice, mud over and over. Glimpses of spring are coming more and more often. My mind turns to things like lilacs and Easter, memories of breakfasts of secret calf-brains and walks with my dear grandmother.

I poured all of this into a post over at A Deeper Story called The Witches’ Lilacs. It pushes up through my silence. Go say hello?

not lilacs

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