I love it when the dark bottle of night spills out, and the Moon writes in chalk about us.

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

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

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

I'm not afraid of the opinions of others - but of being needed and coming up short.

Freshly cut Christmas trees smelling of stars and snow and pine resin - inhale deeply and fill your soul with wintry night.

Ambition or contentment? This simple question led me back to a more balanced view of life and put me in touch with the Me I used to know.