Sitting At The Tipping Point Between Seasons

My feet are covered Warm socks and blanket soft Outside the storm’s rage This time of year, sitting at the tipping point between seasons, I waver between melancholy and expectation. It’s a time of change, of emerging, and of energy. I feel that hope within. But I will miss the long night, the warm blanket … Continue reading Sitting At The Tipping Point Between Seasons