I.
The first breath of August has arrived.
The light is hidden behind the gray. This gray feels solid and whole. Powerful. Full and round like the moon. I want to gaze at the lines and curves of the sky, of my moods, muted, as they circle and shift.
II.
III.
This morning is weighed down by gray again. A mist that hangs heavy and low, blocking out all the gold that filters through the trees, announcing the start of day.
It feels soft and faded, buried, yet alive. Able to infiltrate all the tiny, forgotten places. Gray feels safe in its distance and welcoming in its embrace. It says, “Come, linger for a while.”
What feels alive? Water, gravel roads, storm clouds, stone, moths, home, following my heart - one day at a time.
IV.
strands of soft gray
stretched across each blade
wet, from the rising mist
V.
August is the trickster month, promising everything and delivering on a whim. I love how evocatively you’ve captured this xxx
So beautiful, so inspiring. Through your words I feel I might touch the aliveness of earth and sky. Are those fragments in the bookstore yours? Such a cool idea!