Community happens.

Crows have come to roost in my consciousness again. I am of the kind that seek out the omens of a happening, a circumstance, a serendipity.

So the lady says, “Yes I do have a place to rent, it’s a bit small, let me show you.” You follow her around the back of the house but only see a run down shack-like dwelling you figure must be for tools or chickens.

For years, my magic carpet has been the thumb of my right hand.

He was in his fifties by now, and after years of deliberation he decided it was time.

This year February felt so long that one day when I was bemoaning the weather patterns I looked at a calendar and realized it was actually March 15.