Apr 14, 2020
A whoosh over my shoulder —
like wet laundry flapping in the face of a spring storm —
and the crow glided low down the street,
as if the stick in his beak weighed him down,
holding him a little closer to the earth.
Photographer, yogi, cat-mom, lover of travel and nature, spreading amazement for Mother Earth, one photo, poem or story at a time. (MA Yoga, MS Neuropsychology)
Photographer, yogi, cat-mom, lover of travel and nature, spreading amazement for Mother Earth, one photo, poem or story at a time. (MA Yoga, MS Neuropsychology)
