Painted stones

He politely puts his paw on my face every morning, rumbling low, hoping that soon I will wake to see him waiting.

We collect plume, my daughter and I. The brilliance always leave me thirsty. Ohh to see his magnificence!! To watch him take flight! Never in the wild have I seen him fly, not yet. But like a dream I wait, patiently, I wait.

The aches in the working muscles of my fingers tell me it's never too late. There are new memories being made here. A daily meditation, a welcomed vibration, like the beat of a drum against my chest. From the inside, or the outside? It's the same either way.

She colors everything she touches, that girl, leaving a trail more beautiful and less ordinary than before she arrived.

There are painted stones everywhere, ripples made by the most insignificant actions. We aren't meant to feel them all, but when I do, I swear, I can feel the earth move...

Happy Friday and weekend to you...

xoxo