Sometimes talking too much can be the same as saying nothing at all

Standing there listening to everything and nothing

even in the smallest breeze – the taste of such familiar- feels like sitting on my back porch on a Wednesday morning, the morning hush untouched

the sky has broken many clouds into pieces, including me- gathering in a gentle sun

sings the songs of home. songs forgotten, broken but still burning in the morning

feels like, we’ve been here before, touched by angels, touched by strangers unware

feels like, my body, being put back together with tape and measure, including the wide-open sea

feels like, God rises to the put world back in place once more

and the journey never ceases

kindness sis. krissy