Inside I am still, propped by pillows, outside the hemlocks wave in the wind. How to be. Framed.
I hope I never cease to be filled with wonder when after the rain, the sun comes out.
When we’re wanting more,
when too much is not enough,
we find we’re running hard away from the home where everything already is.
The day we stop being awestruck
by the tiny bird that flies upwards through the trees, is the day we die a little.
