Branches near branches for crows.Coral dawn peeking between the grey clouds, then snuggling back under the covers.  Flat polished stones embedded in the narrow road revealed beneath fine chatting gravel.  Firm bedrock beneath surrender.

Control and design cravings are like moving gravel around a steady path.  All paths are paths.  Some wet, cumbersome, tangled, flat, rocky.  Some more trodden thatn others with hidden rocks revealed.  Gravel comes from boulders that are the earth that is my home.

English daisies find their way to landscape all soccer fields.

Songbirds, here are your words, my love.  Singing praises of gracious grace to walk these paths.