Eat from the Table by KimB

Eat from the Table

A Song of Celebration.
by KimB 2023

---

She walked across the desert,
To bring us Goodwill.

Her hands were empty,
But her heart was Full.

Come sit at the table
and eat 'til you're full.

The Fruit from the Land,
and the Bread from the Mill.

---
Refrain

Come eat at the table
The Bread from the Mill.

---

Chorus

And we'll walk together,
Our hearts will be full.

Our hands will be joined
by acts of Goodwill.

Our world will be brighter
And our days will be still.

As we eat from the table
The Bread from the Mill.

---

She walked across Mountains
To bring us our Fill.

Of Smoke from the woods,
and the streams cold and still.

The table is set
With food from the stream.

And sweet golden syrup
That comes from the trees.

---
Refrain

Come eat from the table
The Bread from the Mill.

---

Chorus

And we'll walk together,
Our hearts will be full.

Our hands will be joined
by acts of Goodwill.

Our world will be brighter
And our days will be still.

As we eat from the table
The Bread from the Mill.

---

She came across Oceans
And risked all she owned.

She had but one thing
to keep her from harm.

She brought us her gift
And gave it with care.

And offered it up
At the table to share.

---
Refrain

Come eat from the table
The Bread from the Mill.

---

Chorus

And we'll walk together,
Our hearts will be full.

Our hands will be joined
by acts of Goodwill.

Our world will be brighter
And our days will be still.

As we eat from the table
The Bread from the Mill.

---

They all walked their ways,
Separate but one.

They bring us our hope
That our days will be warm.

That our lives will be full
And our cares will be none.

To share in their gifts
To the table we come.

---
Refrain

Come eat from the table
The Bread from the Mill.

---

Chorus

And we'll walk together,
Our hearts will be full.

Our hands will be joined
by acts of Goodwill.

Our world will be brighter
And our days will be still.

As we eat from the table
The Bread from the Mill.

---

They share in their bounty
And share it with All.

The food on the table
warms Each and All.

Lives of Goodwill
belongs to Us all.

As we eat The Fruit from the Land,
and the Bread from the Mill.

---
Refrain

Come eat from the table
The Bread from the Mill.

---

Chorus

And we'll walk together,
Our hearts will be full.

Our hands will be joined
by acts of Goodwill.

Our world will be brighter
And our days will be still.

As we eat from the table
The Bread from the Mill.

---

A Moonlight Life by KimB

A Moonlight Life

The path of my life,
is a tracery of moonlight.
A filigree pattern of shadow.

Its silvery leaves,
floating in breezes.
A cast of darkened dapples.

For a moment it sways,
then shifting its way.
Carving a different hue.

A silvery light,
marks but one night.
A tally for half an Interval.

Earth shine falls
upon the shadows.
As the new moon slides
between two dancers.
Passing in a twelfth of time,
to be reborn upon the seventh.

KimB 12 2023

AI Fakery by KimB

AI Fakery

AI is not
Something to trust.

Its users are thieves
Who do as they please.

To pretend that they know
What they never could show.

Other than take
Which makes them all Fakes.

KimB 02 2024

What a year 2023 has been by KimB

[Editor's Post}

2023 has been an eventful year for the family and our global family.

The passing of MrsB and the loss felt by all who knew her in life, or knew her from her writings and art works, brings us sorrow. Our sorrow is a reminder of all of the wonderful things she gave us during her lifetime. We mourn for those things that will never come again, but we can rejoice in all that she gave us.

Joy, Happiness and Wonder

A never ending curiosity about the world.

The important things that we keep in our hearts

The global family is also suffering. There are calamities both natural and man made, circling the planet. Some will abate in time, yet worse is to come. The man made suffering is a long term, self-inflicted catastrophe that repeats and repeats and repeats. We seem to be addicted to unnecessary suffering. When we are not miserable enough ourselves, we drag the rest of the global population into our depression, as if having company will mitigate the actions that created it.

There is a capacity for humans to experience hope even in the worst of conditions.

We hope for ...

Whatever we hope for...

Sometimes our hope is for small things that do not really matter within the scope of our lives. Sometimes we hope for big things that will make significant changes in our living situation. We have hopes for others, that their lives will be full of wonder and contentment.

It is our hope that severs us from suffering.

Hope, Suffering and Sorrow are temporary fluctuations in our lives. We know that suffering and sorrow will happen and we build bulwarks against the worst effects with hope. Blocks of hope appear, even when we cannot see or feel them. Hope surrounds us until enough of its aura envelops us, and we can see that hope is everywhere.

Despair cannot exist in the presence of Hope

Hope is not the same thing as Luck. Luck is some external force, sometimes called Randomness, that we invoke as an explanation for things we cannot otherwise account for. It's a factor outside of our control. It's unpredicatable and lacks a defined pattern. It can be either good or bad. It depends on the point of view.

Good Luck occurs when something pleasant happens. Something unexpected but once present is considered a happy event. Since Luck is unpredictable, we imagine that Hope can somehow influence this unpredictable event and we Hope For Good Luck. But Luck does not respond to Hope.

Bad Luck happens when some random, unpredictable event occurs and the outcome is not a happy one. We do many things to avoid Bad Luck but events happen whether we want them or not. But Luck does not respond to Sorrow, Sadness or Despair either.

Hope is not external, it is inside us. We do not have to search the Cosmos for it. It is inside all of us, all the time. It can get buried by sorrow, despair and unhappy events but it is still inside each of us, just waiting for a chance to bubble up again.

Hope is not unrealistic in scope, we know there are limits to the extent of our Hope. The fundamental quality of Hope is internal. It resides in our mind and our feelings. We have control over Hope, and that is not just Luck.

As each of our years pass, we build new hopes. We cherish joy. We celebrate all the happiness of our lives. We marvel at the wonders surrounding us, from the smallest droplet of dew, to the tallest of snow strewn mountains, and to the scampering of scooters as they wait for the walls to warm from the sun's rays.

Is it any Wonder that we have Hope?

Holiday Cheer by KimB

Holiday Cheer

When cheer abounds,
We make the rounds,
And sing the songs of yore.

We drink our fill,
of yule tide swill,
And happily ask for more.

We sing like bears,
that have no cares,
As the bellowed music swells.

A rousing chorus,
made with lots of noise,
Is sure to ring the bell.

KimB 12 2023

Happy Holidays to Everyone!

A Holiday Story: The Three Friends by KimB

The Three Friends

There were once three worms that lived in a pot. Well, they were not really worms because worms live in the ground like Pity the Poor Patat. These were caterpillars and they lived in a sky of green. Their names were Tom, Dick and Hairy.

Their parents had left them in a sea of green and when they woke, they were surrounded by green everywhere. Sometimes a golden ray pierced the green and the warmth was soothing. Soon they got hungry and found that the green all around them was good to eat. So they ate.

They found that they could move around in the sea of green and if they moved into the golden light, it was not only warm but where the gold fell on the green it had a different taste. It was delicious. So they ate.

When the warm got too uncomfortable, they shifted to a different part of the green sea where the golden light did not reach. It was cool and calming and the green here tasted different. It was delicious. So they ate.

Soon they were joined by The Four Friends: Ernest, Leonard, George and James. Together they explored the world of green, although only George seemed interested in tasting the delicious green. The others stayed away from the golden light as it fell on the green sea, preferring the cool green shelter from the uncomfortable heat.

Well, actually, no one really knows what James was doing, because he moved so slowly he was always last. Still, he made his way, at best speed, to followed his friends.

Tom, Dick and Hairy all continued to eat and eat. There was sooo much tender green to nibble on. There were stiffer al-dente darker greens and a gnawable green spike that appeared with all the tender and al-dente greens had been eaten. It was very satisfying.

They enjoyed the company of the Four Friends and especially the company of James, who had finally made his way into the sea of green. They had fun times visiting and comparing which green was tastier, spicier, sweeter, more savory, juicier and more filling. There was unanimous verdict that nothing was actually filling, so they didn't have to stop tasting everything on the buffet in the green sea.

Then something changed.

No one really knows why or how, but there was a definite change.

Tom, Dick and Hairy felt full. James looked at them and suggested they take a Pepto.

It was the first time Tom, Dick and Hairy had ever not wanted to taste the green sea. They looked around at all the green and felt a bit woozy. Ernest, George and Leonard assured the three that they often felt full and that this feeling passes after a while and then they can eat - well, whatever each of them wanted to eat. They suggested that patience and lots of fluids would set things right soon enough.

But something had changed. Pepto didn't solve the problem and the taste was YUCK! They had no interest in fluids and the longer they waited the worse the symptoms got. They felt fuller and fuller with each passing moment.

The three friends held a family conference. They shared their feelings, big and small. They shared how uncomfortable they were. How the sea of green was no longer interesting, and the mere thought of eating any more green would make them explode.

They took notes and shared ideas and consulted about the different types of green, all of it was Not Interesting. Only James seemed to have an idea, although no one is really sure what James was thinking, as he waved his eye stalks with a convincing twirl.

Tom, Dick and Hairy agreed, and as soon as they did, they no longer felt full and they were no longer hungry. They were content and their worries disappeared.

They waved their many foot-pods goodbye to each other and to the Four Friends and would have hugged James, except James had started another journey. Then Tom, Dick and Hairy each headed for a different part of the green sea.

Tom found a lovely green pool, it was quiet and cool. He folded over an edge of the green and curled up inside and fell into a deep sleep.

Dick traveled along the gnawable green spikes until he found where several of the spikes merged together to make a perfect bed. He curled up on the bed and fell into a deep sleep.

Hairy was more adventurous. Instead of going farther up into the green sea, he turned around and made his way down. He traveled a long way, passing tender greens, and stiffer al-dente greens and gnawable green spikes until he came to something he had never encountered before. There was nothing green where he was. Yet he felt at home and knew this was the right spot. He found a hidden spot in the not-green and curled up and went to sleep.

It was the first time the three had ever gone to sleep. They slept and slept and slept. It was a long time and still they slept.

The Four Friends had completely forgotten about the Three Friends. Ernest, Leonard, George and James continued to doing what they had been doing all along. Although, James had became a good navigator using the Goat's New Compass.

Then, after a very long time, longer than you might think, the Three Friends began to wake up.

Each began to stretch and shift and found that they were somehow different. They were not sure what happened but it felt right. They pushed and pulled and stretched and twisted. They did not have the same shape they'd had when they had gone to sleep! They were eager to discover all about their new shapes. In some places they were smaller and other parts were bigger. Some parts were delicate and others tough as gnawable greens. After much stretching they could not stretch anymore. They were tired and exhausted, so they rested.

They sensed that something wonderful had happened to them. Slowly, they began to test their new forms and then the most wonderful thing of all happened. It took only a moment for each of them to discover what was so very different. They flexed a few times and then ...

They flew into the air.

Their wings now bright and full carried them into a sea of blue.

They left the sea of green behind them, 'though they would never forget that place and would return to it at the end of their journeys. But for now, they flexed up and down and the wind carried them higher and higher. They found many new friends and fluttered around The Four Friends: Ernest, Leonard, George and James, to say goodbye. James twirled his eye stalks as he wished them all a safe journey.

There was just one other thing that they discovered.

They were not Tom, Dick and Hairy they were:

Tomasa, Ricarda and Hermione

So the three friends: Tomasa, Ricarda and Hermione, fluttered Into the sea of blue.


The Three Friends by KimB December 2023

MrsB Butterfly ~1985

Joy by KimB

Dedicated to my friends A&J

JOY

My dog is named Joy,

And she gives me her heart.

She shows me her love,

Whenever she barks.



She runs around and races,

to show me her spark.

Her warm cuddles beside me,

are sure when it's dark.

KimB 12 2023

Why Old Ladies Wear Slippers by KimB

I know why old ladies wear slippers...

Shoes are expensive

And slippers are cheap.

The first is too tight,

The next fits their feet.


They are easy to get on

And come off with a flick,

While shoes require

a bendover to kick.


Slippers are comfy

And and come in all forms,

Some are plain while

some are adorned.


Some have a lining

And others have none.

You can pick from faux-fleece

Or leather to roam.


They come in all sizes

And styles to chose.

You can have half a dozen,

With little to lose.


They keep your feet warm

When the weather gets cold,

Amd during the heat waves,

Your toes can go bold.


So here is to slippers

Soft, fuzzy or firm,

They have been around ages,

And wear them in turns.


One size fits all,

Which cannot be beat,

And we wear them however

They fit on our feet.


KimB 12 2023

Cards to Deck From by KimB

You play a Ten;
I play a Tree,
You play a Jack
and I a Three.
Next you pass
and play none.
I play an Ace
and next a Queen
And for Round One
I reign supreme.


I play my pairs,
and Sail the Sea.
Your Thief takes them
all for three.
You bend your straight
to the high.
My score is low;
the End is Nigh.
For Round Two,
Your cards held true.


Your Knight moves out,
My Clash hits hard.
Your best lands in
the Graveyard.
You spin a Snare
but my Spies see.
So I take yours,
when I pay a fee.


Fire and Frost
not quite spent.
With options few
to make a dent.
The Timer flares.
We're nearly done
One last tick
and then it's gone.


Who will win?
The game's in sway.
The tallest Last Card
will have Last Say.


KimB 07 2023

The City and The Yew by KimB

In a flower field; a mighty yew.
A day; a week; a year.

A city grew, in place of yew.
A smile; a laugh; a tear.

A bird once flew, from that yew.
A song; a thrush; to hear.

Silence fades, as noise cascades.
The city roars so near.



KimB 07 2023

Old Lady's Hands by KimB

Old Lady's hands

Have played in mud,
Drawn stick figures,
Made finger paintings.

* Old Men's hands have done the same but different.


Old Lady's hands

Have rolled first cookies,
Iced first cake,
Held first cones.

* Old Men's hands have done the same but different.


Old Lady's hands

Have cuddled first kitten,
Stroked first dog,
Hugged first doll.

* Old Men's hands have done the same but different.


Old Lady's hands

Have clapped with glee,
Hidden their giggles,
Finger-spied peeks.

* Old Men's hands have done the same but different.


Old Lady's hands

Have clasped first lover,
Styled their hair,
Sewed first gown.

* Old Men's hands have done the same but different.


Old Lady's hands

Have cooked first meal,
Cradled first child,
Pushed first stroller.

* Old Men's hands have done the same but different.


Old Lady's hands

Have carried the sick,
Fed the hungry,
Tended the infirm.

* Old Men's hands have done the same but different.


Old Lady's hands

Have buried their parents,
Buried their sisters,
Buried their brothers.

* Old Men's hands have done the same but different.


Old Lady's hands

Have mourned their lovers,
Mourned their friends,
Mourned their children.

* Old Men's hands have done the same but different.


Old Lady's hands

Have wrinkles from love,
Veins from work,
Scars from toil.

* Old Men's hands have done the same but different.


Old Lady's hands,

Are the Map of Life.

KimB 07 2023

Walls of Illusion by KimB

Walls of illusion, a colored pale,
The line that separates within-the-pale.

Mimic breezes stir the air,
While the winds outside claim the dare.

Light is dark and Dark is light,
The splintered image in reversed sight.

Windows out and windows in,
The view can change at a whim.

Floors of stone, of wood and wool,
Transmute and tame Winter's chill.

KimB 07 2023

Camel Caravan by KimB

Musings on data packet loss...

Camel Caravan


One Hundred camels in a caravan,

along the Silk Road their passage ran.

One camel was lost, Ninety Nine remained.

Did anyone care where the lost One ranged?


Ninety Eight camels from the oasis left,

Ninety Six arrived at their next spot for rest.

Another camel strayed, afar and some,

No one bothered their heads counting sums.


Here a One, there a One and soon there was None.

People wondered how it was done.

For no one, it seems, had the slightest clue,

Who's job it was, to count camel poo.


KimB 08 2023

Camel Prints

Anniversaries by KimB

There is the day I was born

and the day I will die.

There are the clothes I have worn,

The hair that was shorn,

and the tears of goodbye.



In bins and bags,

the scent of wear,

the clothes, now rags,

with maker's tags,

the remains of care.



There is a goal.

The waves of pain,

a hidden shoal,

revealed to show,

where tears remain.



Caccitori.

A strifeful life,

Omlette glory.

Meatloaf stories.

cut of kindness' knife.



The day we met,

and how we laughed.

The times we wept.

The fun we kept,

which swept our path.



Half of two.

The morning sun,

The day renewed,

Like the morning dew.

Half in his course the Ram did run.



The flowers red bloom.

The soil tilled.

The yellow ones soon.

A color monsoon.

Martinis chilled.



Summer sweat.

The game's in play,

The racquet swept,

the ball in net.

The score decides a lunch to pay.



Kisses fine

and Lemon pies,

a Saint-Émilion wine,

bouquet refined,

made starry-eyes.



Cold dogs nose-es;

The woman in blue.

Frozen toes-es;

awakward poses.

Wind captured hues.



The bags are full, the bins have gone.

The closet bare.

Sorrow's thorns

of tears, still torn.

And dusty shelves, do not care.



KimB 2023

Not Grandmother's Navy Bean Soup by KimB

I had a package of white navy beans and decided I would make Navy Bean Soup from them and there was a recipe on the package that said "Navy Bean Soup".

Ahhh... The memories of Grandmother's Navy Bean Soup came flooding back.

Nearly every day, early in the morning there would be a pot simmering away on the stove. The pot had either Uncle Charles' 5 Alarm Chili or was filled with white beans. All day the pot would simmer and the aromas wafted around the house as it cooked.

When the white beans were done at dinner time, big bowls and deep ladles of thick white soup would be served. Fresh hot corn bread and butter was set on the table. Grandfather always had a big glass of buttermilk with his meal.

One time, Grandfather poured out his big glass of buttermilk and the carton was nearly empty. He kept pouring out the buttermilk and the glass filled up more and more.

Grandfather had a way of getting everyone to notice what he was doing by the quietness of his actions, and soon everyone at the table was watching him pour out the carton of buttermilk into his glass.

It was clear the carton was nearly empty but he didn't stop. Soon the buttermilk was near the edge of the rim, but Grandfather kept pouring slowly into the glass.

Whispers of "It's going to over flow" and "Get the towel ready" could be heard as the buttermilk trickled into the glass.

Still, Grandfather tipped the carton up and a few more drips fell into the glass. The buttermilk had formed a bead dome over the top of the glass much higher than the rim.

Satisfied the carton was empty, Grandfather sat back and started to chuckle. There in front of him was an over full glass of buttermilk with a dome ready to overflow onto the table.

More whispers of "Get another towel..." and "How are you going to pick it up?" could be heard while Grandfather basked in his achievement.

With a twinkle in his eyes and a smile, he reached out and with a perfectly steady hand picked up the glass, then he brought the glass to his lips and slurped the dome of buttermilk off the top of the glass, as if it was the foamy head on a mug of rootbeer. SLURP! Not a single drop fell.

With visions of Grandmother's Navy Beans, I gathered all the items on the recipe list. Luckily, I had everything. I soaked the white beans over night and the next morning I assembled the entire list in the crockpot. One of the items was a can of tomatoes. I was a bit puzzled by this as I had no memory of Grandmother putting a can of tomatoes in her soup, but I never really paid too much attention to how she made the soup since it was always already on the stove by the time breakfast was ready.

Still it was puzzling, because normally you do not add anything acidic to beans at the start of cooking. No salt or tomatoes, which are acidic, because it makes the exterior of the beans harder and takes longer to cook them., so these are added towards the end of the cooking process. Some recipes do put acidic items in at first as the cooked beans have a different texture or the cooking process is for a specific dish.

So, I puzzled over the call for the tomotes but that's what the recipe said, so into the crockpot the tomatoes went, along with the rest of the items. The lid went on, and the dish would be ready later that evening. Images and thoughts of Grandmother's Fantastic Navy Bean Soup followed me throughout the day.

When I came home later, I could smell the aroma of cooking from the crockpot. As I entered the door, there was the delicious smell of cooking beans... except... hmmm... It didn't smell like Grandmother's Navy Bean Soup.

Actually, I don't remember Grandmother's Navy Bean Soup having much aroma, just fantastic taste. I came inside and put away my things and then headed to the kitchen to see how that fabulous pot of white beans was doing after hours of slow cooking. I looked through the glass lid and stopped. I blinked my eyes a few times, just to be sure I was seeing that what was in the pot, was really what was in the pot.

Not a white bean to be seen.

Everything in the pot was a pinkish-brown. The sauce was thick and the beans clearly cooked but it was all pinkish-brown.

I checked the recipe and it clearly said "Navy Bean Soup". I checked the list of ingredients and mentally ticked off each item until I got to the can of tomates.

Lightbulb!

The tomatoes had turned the sauce red-brown and the white beans had taken on a pinkish-brown color.

I wasn't sure what I had cooked, so I took out a spoon and gave it a taste test...

It was "pork and beans" style beans.

I made a few seasoning adjustments to the pot and thought about all those cans of "pork and beans" we bought at the market. We often served those out of the can on hot days or as an alternate to cans of Baked Beans for picnic style dinners.

I wondered if Grandmother knew she could have added a can of tomatoes to her Navy Beans Soup to make "pork and beans" style instead?

I am sure she did.

It was just everyone preferred her White Navy Bean Soup; the thought of which even now makes my tummy rumble.

One thing is for certain:

If the recipe calls for a can of tomatoes, it is

Not Grandmother's Navy Bean Soup.

Not Grandmother's Navy Bean Soup

Footsteps by KimB

[a simple folk song]

I heard your footsteps, darling.

In the morning sun.

I heard them on the grass, my dear.

I came upon the run.



I heard your footsteps, dearest.

I heard them, yes it's true.

I heard you walk upon the lawn, my own,

In the morning dew.



I heard your footsteps fading, love.

And watched you pass me by.

I listened to the birds, my dear.

Their crys both sharp and high.



Your footsteps faded in the light, my heart.

As night gave way to day.

I will listen for your footsteps, my love.

'Though you've gone far away.




Chorus:

My dearest love, My love is dear,

My heart is true to thee.

I will listen for your footsteps,

'Though you've gone far from me.

Kim B 2023

The Eye Does See by KimB

On my death, there shall be,

nothing more to hear or see.

The I that's Me, will not be;

The I that's You, is not there too.

It's in the I, the eye does see,

What we call You and Me.

KimB 2023

MrsB 1922-2023

[Editor's Post]

MrsB passed away on March 6, 2023.

She was a remarkable person, and remained active until shortly before her death, studying chess books, doing art projects, reading, watching her favorite baseball team: The Astros, and keeping up with current events.

She was the last of her immediate family and with her passing, the ending of an era that started with her parents lives in 1900 and continued well past a century later.

US History is cataloged by dates of wars: WW1, WW2, Korea, Vietnam but her life was dedicated to peace, tolerance, acceptance, equality and social justice. She was not afraid to stand up against what was wrong, and she was not afraid to stand up for what was right.

Her life spanned historic times:

• When wood burning cook stoves meant chopping wood daily, to microwave ovens.
• When ink wells and pen nibs and cursive writing were how letters were written, to electric typewriters, word processors, and when text messages became the method of our times.
• When distance and costs meant travel and communications had limits, when making a long distance call was extraordinarily expensive and you placed your call through an real person operator, to zoom and video conferencing.
• When people thought more of about each other and cared for strangers, a meal ready for anyone to join in, through times of great hunger and deprivation which stalked the USA during the Great Depression and watched its creeping reemergence.
• When society determined your limits, based not on who you were but how you looked, to seeing the possibilities of better futures for everyone, to seeing social barriers lessened, but not eradicated.

She never stopped moving forward, making life better for everyone. Bringing joy where she could and comfort when joy was in short supply. She never stopped hoping for a future where everyone had enough, where there was place for everyone to call home. Where there was education available to anyone who wanted to learn more. Where our human potential could be expressed in its unlimited variations. Where tolerance was no longer needed because we accepted everyone no matter their race, creed, gender, or national origin.

Her legacy are the words and stories in this blog. They catalog not just her life but the lives of all the others who have written stories to share with us.

But her story does not end there.

We are now The Elders and it is our stories that continue the threads started so many years ago. It is our memories of her generation that remain to be told. It is the story of our own lives that remains to be shared. It is the funny times, the sad times, the happy times that are common to all of us. These are the stories that remain to be written.

And so shall the be.

Marion A Bigelow
June 15 1922 - March 6 2023

The Cat Box by KimB

The Cat Box

Humans are funny things,

They always try to make things clean.

We get into trouble,

On the double,

When the pan we seek,

between our cheeks.

With notable flaws,

We scrape and paw,

And do our best,

to make a mess.

With broom and pan,

Humans ruin our plans,

For the sand to reach,

the size of a beach.


Kim Bigelow 2023

An Atom's Width by KimB

An Atom's Width

A touch / A finger's breadth / A hand extened,

Waiting for response.

A distance / A far nearness / A closer closure,

An approaching conjunction.

A sensation / A cold warming / A thawing warmth,

The ebbing cool.

A scent / An aroma of earth / A waft of sky,

A bouquet of fragrace.

Such craving for touch.

Such desire for closeness.

Such yearning for warmth.

Such hunger for inbreath.


Kim Bigelow 2023