Today is one of those days that I feel a hole in my chest that only Nature can fill.  She shows me Queen Ann’s Lace covering the fields, reminding me that holes are essential for beauty.

So my reluctance and pouting, shame and irritation, crankiness and self-pity are those empty spaces that make the vessel worthwhile.  Somehow.

Be a flutter in the breeze, waving and praising the air that moves.  Moving through the fear of wanting to do nothing for no one forever.

The clouds chorus sing to me: soprano high wispy catch the sun, dark
bass gray low round ones setting a long shady tone, sweet alto pink
traces in the east–a minor chord morning.