Beauty of nature
Everything in harmony
The blossom can’t wait
to become a flower
To show her colors
To attract the bees 🐝

Shell✨🐚

A quiet field of snow
untouched,
unburdened -
I leap through it,
leaving large footprints
and nullifying the stillness
which had graced the field before me.
Luckily,
there is always more grace
to be found in nature;
and so I plod onwards,
my stride slow and heavy,
but joyful as it finds
and matches the tracks
of the moose and ptarmigan
who frolic through this valley.

There is, after all,
an answer to the meaning of life
and love and joy.
And it lies in the valley of snow before me
for all the world to bear witness to.

They stitched me up and sent me out
with a world-class, white-toothed smile.
Tradition sewed with thick black string
until its thumbs went numb and calloused.

Truth tarnished the needle and burned my skin,
but who was I to talk?
If you don’t have anything nice to say,
you best not say nothing at all.

Grandma prettied me up and dried my eyes,
said I should talk with God.
He’s an awful bad conversationalist;
The Saints remained silent night after night.

When that town was done, I was a right lovely thing:
delicately embroidered, just enough flourish.
Unsung secrets where a soul should be;
I guessed Blood was overrated anyway.

Now seams have ripped and sutures popped,
revealing gruesome wounds and ugly verity.
Momma, I’m sorry, it didn’t last;
I am not as strong as you are.