Really just an amateur trying my hand at this.
Waking up Old
Old is the land, old is my hand. My body, my soul. I wake with the weight of a blanket, a patchwork blanket, of decades, thrown over my body. It’s weight is a comfort, familiar and reassuring. Each patchwork, a different season, a different turning. Continually I add to this blanket of my life. All the episodes of my life, sewn together with threads from other’s lives.