bluesong When I came home that night, you were sprawled across the front porch swing mumbling songs in that blurry tongue you get when you’ve had too much to drink, foot swinging carelessly between cracks in the wooden planks. You looked up and smiled sloppily at your own reflection in my glasses and the stars pricked holes in the darkness and even the moths fumbling around the streetlamps seemed to say Yes yes yes yes in the beat of their powdery wings. There is a pattern here, but math was never my forté, &nbbluesong
heartbeat Human error is what prevents us as a species from going entirely mad. As the fawn wobbles and teeters on new hooves, falls and arises, its focus entirely concentrated on the task, so we go about our lives.heartbeat
Nature is a part of our world but so are we, and when we awaken from our nightmares we will find a tolerant smile and warm voice, and we will be shown that the monsters in the closet are our own.
GiftThe other children said he had crazy eyes and made fun of how his mother dressed him and refused to understand why he liked strange colors and would not play with his toys. They could not get used to the voices he heard, or how he traced their faces with his fingers and pronounced them good and were scared of the way his hands made music from plain air. They misread his language and thought he conjured demons in the quiet glade where no birds sang. But the boy only shrugged and smiled quietly to himself at theirGift
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Love, Marion
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