the osprey will leave in October

the parents will return in March

the cycle is part of my heart's rhythm

i have come to this place

while the dance was dancing

August

We slip between modes of comfort and discomfort.  The time between is growth.   

We grow in random and chaotic stages for the rest of our lives once our knees stop hurting from the Green Giant push of youth and marrow.  

 The random stages of growth carry into the finer less material phases of a person’s existence.  They extend into the mental and elemental.  

 They slide up your spine like the Kundalini and tickle your neocortex to remember a finer state of grace where the physical realities seem dense and burdened, where the sweet sensations of the souls’ mercurial unfolding breach the gap between the formal Russian Ballet and Twyla Tharp.