Sometimes the great bones of my life feel so heavy, and all the tricks my body knows ― the opposable thumbs, the kneecaps, and the mind clicking and clicking — don’t seem enough to carry me through this world and I think:From “Spring Azures” by Mary Oliver
how I would like to have wings — blue ones — ribbons of flame. How I would like to open them, and rise.
For you I will give my allFor you I will continue etching away pieces to suffice you I will pull the sun from the sky for a rainy day if that is your desire I will be a stool to rest your feet upon if ever they are tired I will be your rationale to shun…
Her Candid Altar 