There is a house where silence sings, beneath the shade of tree-born wings, its roof a blush of ember red, where fig jam dreams are softly spread. The cupboards hum with cinnamon, not just of spoons, but days begun— with laughter steeped in morning light, and stories tucked away at night. A lane now winds […]
A Dream in Daylight Read More »
Whirling around are the spirals of color, untamed wheel put into stop How it dreams about flying instead of imitating stories faded away long time ago, cradled into the dawn of consumerism. Feathers are now weary but still vivid and at nighttime when no one looks they spread and no more words of polished manner
Feathers That Remember How to Fly Read More »
Slender stings that are notplucked but gently kissed bywind and sun, shyly green and graciousin the field, violet in spirit and soul,that never fades away or abates —only waitsto be touched and seen,vast and wild. Untamed answerof so many questionsbeating in the rocks of time,hidden but dwelling alonein the lavender hush.
This is where it begins—with a whisper, not a headline.Just a few thoughts gatheredfrom the edges of the day,where light touches paperand meaning takes its time. There’s no map, just movement.No answers, just pages. Welcome to Field Notes.
