eyes starting to spill over with grief.
my eyes and these wnc rain clouds. I’ll be glad when the winds shift course.
Misty ancient mountains. Strange to think about how they age isn’t it?
“I forgot” she said, “Rocks age backwards. The smaller they are, the older their soul” -Renard d’argent
are the strange mountains I’m headed for full of sass and cheek like teenagers?
Not sleeping much these days. I got up. Morning walk with a leeshless dog in the fog. I picked a bouquet full of just my most favorites. I did porch yoga. I fed the bumper crop of mosquitoes and listened to a mix I’m making for my brother.
These days my heart would say: I am still me. No matter the bark I shed or the green new limbs I grow. Don’t forget that I’m still me.
“I believe that one can never leave home. I believe that one carries the shadows, the dreams, the fears and the dragons of home under one’s skin, at the extreme corners of one’s eyes and possibly in the gristle of the earlobe.”
― Maya Angelou, Letter to My Daughter
Blessings beautiful lady. There will always be those of us who hold a place for you here and any of the Carolina diaspora who need to just breathe the air and feel the mother love of our mountains. We are always with you.