But first, here's a thing: I've decided to write a 100-word prose poem, incorporating outer and inner worlds, each day for the next year (we'll see how long I keep that up). Join me? Maybe just for the month of August? If you have any you're pleased with, send them over for the blog...
On the hill, the barley is dancing.
Heart, make your first harvest:
extend your arms like rays of the sun
to gather in all whom you love
and all too who feel themselves unloved:
the broken, the lost, the abused –
shadow-dancers all. Gather them in –
give them all bread. Give them
cause for laughter, for love.