blueberries she came to me, skipping in the comfort of a seemingly endless indian summer afternoon, barefoot, curls bouncing to the rhythm of wonder. she held out two delicate fists, knuckles white with insistence.

"guess!" she said, swallowing, waiting.
a small bird landed on a bare branch above us. i pointed to her right hand.
she opened it with innocent flare.

"nope!" she squeaked. "guess again." she sang the words as if life was a song we create as the day unfolds. i pointed to the left as if there existed the possibility i was incorrect.

"yes!" she shouted, opening her hand.
it was a seed. "plant it and it will grow," she said, dropping it in my open hand from her pinch of thumb and index fingers.

love had already buried itself in me.
unhinged i miss all my little girls so much. where is a hug from brynnie when i really need it? those cullings_girls 011117
birdmad yes, it does, but when it does, for some reason, it prefers to use excavating equipment even though the door was always open 011117
ClairE and that, all alone, was the key. 011128
ClairE *and that, all along, was the key. 011128
glenn love has never buried itself in me. maybe it can't. its as if there is a shield around me that stops love in its tracks. or maybe its just never come close. who knows? 020310
what's it to you?
who go