There she was appearing again standing in the half-light the moon in her hand. Honeysuckle watfting intense white in the night. Dreams speak of dragons…
There she was appearing again standing in the half-light the moon in her hand. Honeysuckle watfting intense white in the night. Dreams speak of dragons…
Memory is large harboring an ancient forest of timeless trees an ocean of vast waves Generosity is smart as a wizened, old owl Fear is…
If I fell through a wormhole I would land outside her window in midsummer breathe the smell of pomegranates ready for picking on that lopsided…
It was Werewolf weather yesterday, misty rain and cloudy. Seriously, if we had moors instead of mesquites, it could happen. Why do I think this?…