Aging

  • Withering

    A rose. Think of it. How like a rose we are. Beginning as seed, gently, a bud. How we open, slowly, never seeing our petals born; never guessing when, at last, the last will fall. And when we wither, wrinkle… Continue reading

  • Butterfly

    Do you think a caterpillar knows, upon entering her cocoon, that she will soon die to the only form she’s ever known? Do you think she is afraid of the dark of the wait, or what might find her on… Continue reading