I see myself at crossroads in my life, mapless, lacking bits of knowledge - then, the Moon breaks through, lights up the path before me.

Summer softens lines that winter cruelly shows.

You think so logically... like a hawk soaring - I feel so chaotically... like a kite without a tail plummeting to earth.

The winter is kind and leaves red berries on the boughs for hungry sparrows.

Here's what I've learned - people will hurt you, but you don't have to respond: Not every mean comment or cruel act deserves to be noticed.

I make no apology about stirring the depths - every human longs to swim under water and see what lurks beneath

Dark furrow lines grid the snow, punctuated by orange abacus beads of pumpkins - now the crows own the field.