Spring

Don’t count on sunshine, he told me. He meant it mildly. But I took wing on the gusts of absence and rose tall as an eagle against the sun. One doesn’t count on sunshine any more, I said. One waits for the signs of the seasons. The signs arrive even if the seasons’ faces change. They must come. Even absence is a sign. If only one knew how to read it. 

You must be logged in to post a comment.

Broken Light: A Photography Collective

We are photographers living with or affected by mental illness; supporting each other one photograph at a time. Join our community, submit today!

The Circus Diaries

A Critical Exploration of The Circus World...

Chicago Book Review

Chicago Book Review reviews Chicago's books

The Daily Post

The Art and Craft of Blogging

The Extinction Protocol

Geologic and Earthchange News events

Turtle Talk

Indigenous Law and Policy Center Blog Michigan State University College of Law

The Thesis Whisperer

Just like the horse whisperer - but with more pages

kottke.org

No heavens or hells haunt my desires, but those other worlds that exist in perfect harmony with all that is...

Neuroself

Subjective Neuroscience

The WordPress.com Blog

The latest news on WordPress.com and the WordPress community.

%d bloggers like this: