Hello wakeful wanders, and babies sawing wood.
The past week has bloomed with midday sleep ins, and midnight wakefulness.
As I go to sleep, I think of every south bound highway. I think of all the breads we've turned into companions, of all the bees we've poured into honey, of all the softwood we've made into threads, of all the petals we've pressed into palms. We drift from the morning air until the yellow sequins turn into shadows.
I love your support. I love your generosity in comments. I love your golden spirits.