Today I would a weaver be... Who knows what will become of me? *** Perhaps I'l ride on magic rug And sip hot chai in frothing mug. *** Or maybe wrapped in blanket warm I'll watch the coming thunderstorm *** Cocooned in woven warp and weft 'Til all the stormy days have left. *** Or … Continue reading Today
Out here on the deck, still feeling the traces of a weary fog, I am enveloped and enlivened by what I can only call pure magic. Perhaps you have felt this too? The titter and chirp of birds and crickets singing a song of hope for the new-made day. Their chatter is a lively conversation … Continue reading The Magic of Morning
