Sweet Little Comforts
My thought is a mandala, a mantra. A round thing turning over and over in my mind. A focus for my eyes and my breath. It's as close as I come to prayer.
My thought is a mandala, a mantra. A round thing turning over and over in my mind. A focus for my eyes and my breath. It's as close as I come to prayer.
The island was ours; each kissing gate and the kisses inside of them, each water trough, every animal call, root, rock, dock leaf and bunker. Even the moon.