Somewhere Between

No matter how tall you grow You’ll never touch the top of the sky No matter how small you are You’ll always be touching the sky Top photo was taken of our back yard trees in summer; the bottom photo is a brood of wood duck chicks that visited our yard in spring.

Waking

I touched his arm he held my hand for a brief moment “I love you” “I love you” I rolled out of bed to start my day loved   Image by Pexals

Contemplation of Touch

Five facets of the tactile sense: Survivor A mystical kinship among lives frayed with dearth forms from touching others who have traveled a parallel journey Widow It was too brief, too common, what became their final touch. How she wished she had brushed his hair from his forehead and whispered “I love you” with her … More Contemplation of Touch