Forever Home

East of a little town and down out past the hedges and burrows and scarlet-veined ivy there are two tobacco brown rivers that slit the soil and as they roll off into a backdrop of innumerable golden bushels of wheat and grain and pebbled soybeans there lies a treasured slice of triangulated land that sways rhythmically and sweet beneath the swarms of larks and teals and red breasted mergansers and they all funnel into a conflux where starlings swirl and trails amalgamate and muddy waters gurgle…

Open & Unaware

In Fictions:

The girl had never seen the sun set from this particular bend in the river. The way the bank was bent allowed the light to shine in such a way that it unrolled a golden carpet across the surface of the water.

Books: A Love Story

In Self-Explorations:

I’ve encountered many books that I could not possibly part with; like strangers on the streets with gleaming eyes that reflect interesting and untold stories, a curiosity begs you to discover and explore those stories you are supposed to be a part of.