Some days are easy and some days are exhausting the days you have to dig through the muck inside take more hits than a heavyweight prize fighter cling to life with mud between your fingers I tend to rip myself from situations root first but uprooted and free aren’t the same thing what is blooming but an unraveling the loosening of petals a joyous movement, a quiet consistency an unfolding full of forward momentum (an aching) from whole to empty and back again

Benediction for Ice Cream by Ana Marie Boyd
I can still hear the slow jam jingle of the ice cream truck gliding along past our yellow house like it was riding on rails





