The Fall

November has stolen autumn – my painful broken foot, loneliness, snow and ice make it impossible for me to enter the door I long for – my beloved forest – that place of solace – where blue waters rise over steep banks, beavers fell trees, orange teeth skin cambium, and mosses are still a brilliant green – Fall cut me in half – left a stranger behind –  to camp alone -without water – always without water – my well has run dry.

 When I look at this image I imagine a self being drawn through fallen leaves into a new story – one centered on a future that supports seeds that grow…

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