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Ancient rocks, ancient like glaciation, tumbled through centuries and through time, etched their way into the earth. The wind sounded like water, like waves, pushing though leaves of the highest trees, waving above and so below, all around. A bird repeated a stanza, its song a hollow, echoing. you give me steps to climb to … Continue reading Answers

Bone writing

Fingers like twisted branches reach for a pento write about the lines that fold around her gnarled knuckles dry with age from holding onto stories too longher forearms rest heavyon the smooth white pages of bark as she writes her story with ink made of dirt;lines of language.