Originally posted on Jane Dougherty Writes: Today, two of the children were visiting, bringing their talk and laughter. It was a day of chatting of everything and nothing, of singing and laughing and playing with dogs and cats, of walking up through the fields on tracks left by the harvesters following scents and listening to…

Originally posted on purplepeninportland: Written for: Sunday Muse #217 On this mountain, magical moments take place. No one else knows about this space. Just me. One night I was able to swim across the night sky. Didn’t tell anyone. Tonight the moon is full of smiles. I am catching moonbeams on my magical mountain. http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

Originally posted on House of Heart: In the alcove she sips dark coffee, her eyes sting from cigarette smoke permeating the cafe. Still she is compelled to search the tree lined boulevard where branches become hawks, their whistling wings a silky blue. Few faces can be seen theough the mist but the sweet language of…

Originally posted on Purplerays: .Green Roses are real and they are very special and very old. Text and image source: Afteen https://www.facebook.com/100831608571448/posts/pfbid02RrywMPCSzaJzxafKxW7oVFqJ6cbRDYBgxfqfz8qkCVCoevpfpTWv7buVMEBzHUCkl/

Originally posted on Jane Dougherty Writes: Today, two of the children were visiting, bringing their talk and laughter. It was a day of chatting of everything and nothing, of singing and laughing and playing with dogs and cats, of walking up through the fields on tracks left by the harvesters following scents and listening to…

Originally posted on purplepeninportland: Written for: Sunday Muse #217 On this mountain, magical moments take place. No one else knows about this space. Just me. One night I was able to swim across the night sky. Didn’t tell anyone. Tonight the moon is full of smiles. I am catching moonbeams on my magical mountain. http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

Originally posted on House of Heart: In the alcove she sips dark coffee, her eyes sting from cigarette smoke permeating the cafe. Still she is compelled to search the tree lined boulevard where branches become hawks, their whistling wings a silky blue. Few faces can be seen theough the mist but the sweet language of…

Originally posted on Purplerays: .Green Roses are real and they are very special and very old. Text and image source: Afteen https://www.facebook.com/100831608571448/posts/pfbid02RrywMPCSzaJzxafKxW7oVFqJ6cbRDYBgxfqfz8qkCVCoevpfpTWv7buVMEBzHUCkl/