Sometimes, There are Scars

We called down to hear a sound survive us: "Do not only fear."

At the Beloved River

Seasonal homecoming. A new poem. Some prose approaching a ritual I don't know how to commit to prose.

Some thoughts on ritual. Stuff collected on a beach-walk. An unexpected gift.

Sometimes it's good to be sad. Or angry. Or unsure. Let's go howl at the moon; it's full today.

Autumn rituals