The smokey Mountains are beautiful.
As a canopy spread over delicate leaves
wilting growth reached for speckled light
finding its way through
they carry the larvae along the entire length of the leaf edges, squeezing as they go, using the larvae like living bottles of glue, until the edges of the leaves are stuck together from end to end
It will never grow old...not until my final sunset, then that is where you can find me.
BE SOMEONES LIGHT INSTEAD OF EXTINGUISHING YOUR OWN.
This baby face I have never kissed but know so well as it is one I grew up alongside and then again held as my own.
As life sustains, while we hardly notice, it is busy writing a beautiful story of its growth