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sometimes empty
I hear songbirds and the last, dying breaths of the cicadas.
I hear songbirds and the last, dying breaths of the cicadas.
She is unfinished. I do not know all she needs. (I am listening.) A Blessing May your voice be heard in its fullness, dear reader.
The streets are no longer empty but sometimes still await our joyful return…
there is no place here for the army of cruelty
single leaf falling
In this episode, I reveal some inspirations and talk about the value of poetry as protest, the worth of women and mothers, and how the myths of Henry David Thoreau and Adam Smith support cultural gaslighting.