photo by Patricia- our favorite Adirondack lake at sunset
Red-winged black birds are back, their trilling can heard down by the creek. Now the hunt is on for the first robin because they must also have returned. Unusual heat continued through morning so we pulled chairs onto the pool deck and sipped coffee with our bare arms exposed to the sun.
Soon the breezy wind caused the temperature to plummet twenty degrees and the windows were shut tight to the cold. The studio beckoned me. A piece arose easily as if it were meant to be and I was just a conduit for its birth.
The PTSD beast sleeps. The lull in the usual upheavals sustains, the balance and repose nourishes. When the soul speaks it is not always about pain but what might take flight out of you if unburdened by it.