• listen, as the waves withdraw, to the rasping
    chatter of stone on stone. Surely such tumbling
    also takes a toll, burnishing cobbles
    into pebbles, erasing bedrock in due time.

    Meet Margot
  • I have, from time to time, declared my love for lichen. But that is a lie. I don’t love lichen; I love the idea of lichen. I love that they have made it work, have figured out how to live practically anywhere, to survive terrible conditions, to endure until they can thrive.

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  • . . . because in photographs, emptiness is never entirely empty. It brims over, often, with promises: the assurances that there are connections to be made, meaning(s) to be found, stories that we can co-construct and understand.

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  • Venus has been illuminating my mornings this past week. She rises earlier than I, arcing upward until she’s high above the horizon and dawn’s broader light obscures her.

    Read Gleanings