Rain ticks lightly against my face like blunt, cool needles. I walk slowly up the small hill. Grass is long. So, so green. Flecked with yellow maple leaves. No, carpeted. I like the way everything feels soft beneath my feet.

Under the pine, the woods are illumined as if from the inside out. Day is almost gone, the sky a deep grey. But the yellows of maple and various unknown bushes glow. Light without source, so it seems.

One leaf hangs from the swing rope, and a tiny brown bird is foraging in the ivy. Cardinals dart from the pine to masses of bird-berry bushes. Maple leaves flip and bob— like hands of a dancer or maybe old men who want to say hello.

Each thing, each and every thing here seems to heal me from the inside out. As if each were put here just for me, just for this moment... to mend. Rain ticks lightly against my face like blunt, cool needles. Mending, mending.

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Blogger Shosannah said...

What beautiful images come to mind reading this!

Blogger Joelle said...

Yes, the imagery is vivid, alive. Your rain needles remind me of a poem of remembrance, praying for winged things to stitch together torn memories of my deceased uncle in their flight wakes. Nature is so often the gentle mender of my wounds.

Blogger Laurie A. said...

the world will give us its heart when we are in need of nursing our own.

Blogger nannykim said...

Love the pictures you create....Fall is a beautiful time of the year. Sometimes it creates a hungering in my soul.

Ps. I finished your book and I totally enjoyed it. Thanks for writing it and keep on writing!!

Blogger Sara said...

Your writing is so comforting. When I read it, I find myself taking a deep breath and just FEELING your word. You're not telling what I should do or how I should be...you're just sharing a beautiful moment.

Thank you.


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