Birds rise out of a frosted field. Morning light pierces the sky. Each one bright and distinct, sunrays cross themselves like a net of veins.
I am brimful with existence. I am alive with dreams.
I am brimful with existence. I am alive with dreams.
A net of veins? I like that! I like this. Can't wait to hear more!
ReplyDeleteThat is it. You are one of my favorite authors out there, Emily. This shines.
ReplyDeleteYou know, even with your short posts, you make me want to write a whole story with what you suggest! Hugs!
ReplyDeleteYes. Yes, yes, yes.
ReplyDelete