even the darkest nights have stars

in fact, that’s when they shine even brighter

and the ones that were invisible before – this is when the world first sees them glimmer

(but don’t you know, they’ve been shining on their own all along).

we aren’t left to fend for ourselves in the dark –

each night, we are tucked in with a translucent blanket of majesty – threaded with periwinkle-navy and deep blue,

glittered with layers and layers of frosted twinkles – if your hand could reach out to touch it, you’d move the stars.

you can’t beat the air here, especially after it’s rained – dew brings you an ice-cold brew (essence of tree bark, the red kind). night mixes it with cool. nostrils try to sip in summer’s glass, but the flavor always just lingers on the tip of the tongue – taste buds singing for more.

so you lay down, cold sidewalk beneath, and dream.

and you get up – and dance with your arms held high.


the most perfect moment

nature’s stained glass window of hail and rain.

thunder / zues / light / shining through capsules of water diving themselves into a million splashes of sidewalk.

reminding you of the mystery and sublime of life – of beauty and danger – all wrapped up in one. short. moment.

and then it’s gon-.

the state of (in)between

the process. the practice. the journey.

we think of it in agony. sometimes. often. panic/excitement/anguish.

we forget that it is…

the art of making. of baking pies (blueberry). the anticipation of sweet reward. that which makes making so sweet. and sour.

but have hope. take courage. squeeze out every bit of confidence. because once it has passed. it is only memory.