december 5th, 2023

the sky is gray. a light snow hides the roughness of things in the morning. by the afternoon, the rough peaks through. dying grass, gravel, stripes of pavement.

I listen to something wise and I know I need discipline. I crave the sort of newness that lets you be the person you are today or could be tomorrow. No past impressions or expectations.

being a mother has been these things, when I am brave enough to claim them.

for a sweet one I can be better. a love that makes you want to be better is as tall as that opaque slate that seems to rest on trees and aim to mask itself as snow.

and within it, all manner of angels.