I prefer soft landings and slow starts — I prefer soft landings and slow starts. Space to deliberately study a leaf’s lineage. To feel words as they roll over my tongue. Is there a river-like cadence? Or do I need a valley of vowels with voles? Am I caught in the grey shale shades, unable to find the…

And its wonderful wisdom — Soft grey strands populate my thoughts and grow by my temples. Aging knows less is more and the gentle corners to explore a leaf the wind drinking the colors of said sweet sunset the amber foliage dancing reggae, all of which are exquisite. Being single is sadly equated to not being…

Starts when we listen to our needs — I was trying too hard, did too much, and overstretched my time when I finally stopped and bowed my head to the sensibilities tucked inside of rest. Intuitively I was led to the sorcery of the wiry winds walloping wildly. Not exactly a jingle but a ping-a-ting and a swoosh of icy pelts dancing right outside my window. To my surprise I started to sway and my feet followed the flow while my hands orchestrated an invisible symphony, accompanied by those clear crystal bells.