the roots of the tree jut out, rib-like below the pavement that it is bending out of shape. above, the concrete is rough, cracked, torn. there's wisdom to be seen in the sprawl of the branches, if one just knows where to look. (it's etched into the tree, watching countless bypassers) a fine… Continue reading roots + wisdom + grit
icicles hang from the branches, arching them down, stooped and slowly aged. the trees stand close, tall and hiding a multitude of secrets in earth. a final tree is selected, photographed and left to stand alone.
she palms the stack of green paper, freshly spit out of the ATM. counts it once, twice - all as should be and returns to the office. (it doesn't feel as heavy in her bag as expected) she gets back and works longer days - one hour, two hours. it makes no difference to her.… Continue reading NaPoWriMo 9 (green)