often it's untidy and broken things that call our names

it's fine to want to fix things, but sometimes the worn

weathered are reminders of where it is we come from

and how it is we are moving through this wild world

one foot touching the earth, dragging the other behind

 grayness presses itself against a morning sky and hearts

and all things soften and spread, and you can only say

beautiful before you begin again the search for treasures

xo