We never really notice “last times” until later. The last time you walked a certain street, talked to someone, etc.
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I’ve learned that the hardest part of change isn’t starting, it’s continuing.
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Perched like a jewel on sunlit stone.
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On the slope, a goat balanced like breath on a string
It blinked slowly at the wind
Daring comes in quiet forms too
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Olive branches twisted under the Mediterranean sun,
their leaves silvery and trembling with ancient knowledge,
and oil dripped like memory into waiting hands.
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A storm rolled in as flamingos danced in the rain
They looked like fire on water
I felt foolishly human watching them
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Just finished savoring a homemade lasagna with a glass of red wine. The perfect end to a long day.