Night. Fall.
Night. Fall. Cycles still roll round after all these years. More slowly, though, more in tune with seasons than with phases of the moon or friends. Rolling now towards that narrow gate, dark and guarded by the longer nights. I don’t wish the time away. The sun is at my back but will rise up before me soon enough. Let dream and dark and cold do their unraveling work in their unravelling season. They know, better than I, how to move the story forward. S. Robbins, Sept 2, 2020 from Readings
Sherry Robbins 
And again, yes. A Prayer.
LikeLiked by 1 person