The rugged old Norsemen spoke of death as Heimgang-“home-going.” So the snow-flowers go home when they melt and flow to the sea, and the rock-ferns, after unrolling their fronds to the light and beautifying the rocks, roll them up close again in the autumn and blend with the soil. Myriads of rejoicing living creatures, daily,…
Buildings, like their people, worn by war and long winters. A city of contrasts. These are a people who, in just the past year, have risen up and overthrown a government of extreme corruption and violence. People who, in this lifetime, have survived starvation and genocide by Russian forces – even mass killing by their…
Old sols widening circles enchanted by light Brother wind whispers through the leaves Be still young one gentle breeze Heaven is here
a story that could be true
The story we play in our mind is a powerful one. Our story can be what we want it to be – dark and light, lost and found, life and death. We are the storyweavers. We weave our life stories from the fabric of our choosing and for the future of our youth. May you…
ode to summer
I’ll remember sweet summer, glorious in dream-like haze. Farewell dear harvest, lush in fruitful bounty. Hello brilliant autumn, crisp in colorful delight. Sleep well dear roots, nestled in the earth. Rest up my love, summer will come again. ~ Poem and photo by Jacqueline Hammond.