Water to your Earth

And here with the brimming cup I stand, gripped in my praying, outstretched hand - afraid of it being gleaned from my grasp, not of my fingers growing weary of this clasp... The tears refill the steals of the windy air, no fire from the sun can dry up what's here; this river can only…

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On this day, last year…

Dear reader, on this day, last year, I blogged for the very first time. A passionate writer and amateur doodle artist found her way into a large and glorious community of like minded, passionate writers, readers, musicians, artists, and friends who were not only involved in the creative process themselves, but also welcomed newbies with…