flowed onto my head
between droplets of warm water,
blew through my hair from the branches of an old oak
fluttered onto my shoulders cupped in a falling leaf
slipped into my ear on bird song, gently insistent to be captured and written prepared and developed on a page, moulded and shaped
from image, metaphor and language ~ tools of heart, soul and mind.
blew through my hair from the branches of an old oakfluttered onto my shoulders cupped in a falling leaf
slipped into my ear on bird song, gently insistent to be captured and written prepared and developed on a page, moulded and shaped
from image, metaphor and language ~ tools of heart, soul and mind.
“The idea is to write it so that people hear it and it
slides through the brain and goes straight to the heart.”
~ Maya Angelou
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