There is no bad weather; only bad clothing 🏔
My spirit is called to the forest. I hear Mother earth’s sweet kulning song. An ancient song of peace hums all around me. I’m lured by her magic. I’m intoxicated by her.
By M. Johnson3 years ago in Poets
I crave the cold wind in my lungs. I invoke it and call upon it. The icy chill is like solace from the raging fire inside me.