Alone in the woods A cut in the bark It weeps, it bleeds Its golden sap. Green needle scent And a warm spring breeze Deeper and darker she goes.   Crunch underfoot. Light filters down Through forest leaves And dapples shadow On fecund earth. A cool spring breeze, and Deeper and darker she goes. […]

I am a writer, and writers write.   – (And being comfortable calling myself “a writer” was its own little journey. Now I sit here typing this a mite surprised at how easy it is to refer to myself that way, and be comfortable with it) –   But a writer who wants to make […]