I’m not ready to leave the garden.
And to think, all this beauty is because we lean.
Without asking, iced tea is poured into my emptied glass.
It’s an odd concept to be looking for in a landscape.
The stick hits the water with a quiet splash.
I am an imprecise image maker.
So much for a happy ending.
Of the three churches at this intersection, this is my favorite.
This morning, I am filled with longing.
It’s just not right that a place so lovely would be this cold.
I blame it on the wind.
It’s a joy to be outside.
All around me are old buildings with new names.
I should know better, but it feels like spring.
I stand under this massive oak in a fine mist.