The side we've come to know is the one whose instructions we have been letting. Giving the framework for the words that we affirm it with. The art that connects the rain. The shaking that we lean on. And the smallness that grips lonely. Not from some echoing moment...

Words do not favor a particular direction but go where we lean. Words do not work their way out of feelings but stay where we lean. And words do not color experiences but cycle where we lean. But those truths aren't obvious when it comes to words that have been handed...

It takes a lot of creativity to not speak on the things that live inside our gardens. To walk the path of the never, never land that knows how many times no is on the pages. To have borders that circle us back around to the very same conversations. To be in rhythm...

Moments fade into the routine of familiarity. Days pass with the idea that the close is only temporary. Hope brings the language of a different landing beyond what's been the same. Circling the layers of our intimacy and the unscripted possibilities in the foreign....

Moments are for keeps. Details are for keeps. Feelings are for keeps. As the weeds saved in gardens. Words saved in stories. Colors saved in artwork. And lines saved in songs. For the weight fused between hearts and minds. The shadows drowning homes in darkness. The...

Been in the garden. The story. The artwork. The rhythm. Having planted. Written. Colored. Composed. Focused on the growth. The words. The feelings. The sounds. Built into the home. The talk. The weather. The music. As confessions of less even though there is more. As...