gold reaches  up to

kiss the rock’s chin with the mark

of the buttercup


Even the hardest of hearts can crack wide open, given the right sort of pressure. A sudden, shattering breaking or the slow, patient sculptor’s work of wind and water. Or the rolling back of a tombstone. How great, then, the light’s joy as it plays at illuminating the spaces once secreted away, clearing out all that was foul and stagnant.

This entry was posted in haiku, loved into being, O!. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Waves

  1. Beautiful picure and inspiring message, Julie. Needed both! Thanks! How’s that baby kicking? 🙂

  2. julie says:

    He’s doing great; I’m pretty sure he’s turning somersaults in there on occasion, and last week he got me way over on the side and it actually tickled. Very surreal 🙂

  3. mushroom says:

    Well said. And I like the cool new layout.

  4. Cathy says:

    Lovely conjoining of picture and prose.

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