To move between the domestic and the otherworldly need not be some hero’s leap across some chasm, triumphant. We drifted back and forth, more gaze than choice. In this way, our tears translated to the pools of mermaid songs at bath time. Come, littles. Now the scalp, now the towels at our tails. Daylight done, lights out, out! The mystery had to do with its return in the morning, and we whispered, Tomorrow. Of the light and the pinecones, rabbits, and blue jays. They would. We would be there. We hoped tomorrow to put acorns in a pile, that the squirrels would see them and approve. That they would see us and know. We called our good nights to the moon. It was changing and we meant to see how. It pulled our gaze like tides, and we were out again.
Another great post.
Granny! Thank you : ) xoxo
I also enjoyed reading this post
Thank you, Thomas : )
It is truly little magical pieces like these that most amplify my gratitude for being able to read. Thank you for sharing your wonder.
Thank you, friend. The feeling is mutual.
That is some hearty sweetness. Thank you in abundance, friend of mine.