Flame Spirit

A Sunday of watercolors and Flame Spirits, she carries a vessel.

She Adorns the Self; spring rememberings

Shifting in twilight a ghost of Springtime past, sheds a tear for Winter to come but hurry fast.

The end of Autumn is ripe and the trees begin to grey. Brother North Wind pays his dues while dry and crumpled leaves blow down the path. Winter is impatient and can't hold back her whispers, she is whispering with the tree limbs of a hallow howl.

Love Fold Blind; winter digs her teeth

You can smell Her in the air as the wind carries messages through the trees. In love I have befallen so truthfully and gracefully, knee deep, still sinking.

A Stomach Full of Leeches

Last minute paintings leave me feeling like my stomach is being sucked dry from the inside out. A new gallery month and I have been asked to bring more than one piece to hang. I am nervous and excited all in one. Wish me luck. Am still working on the painting I am putting in. Waiting for the wax to dry.

Oriental Fire Room

Spent the weekend at my mother-in-law's and painted a watercolor. I haven't done many watercolors and haven't had any professional training so the outcome is all self taught.

Their White Conquer

Autumn comes and then she leaves so quickly. I didn't get a chance to speak her tongue. I didn't get a chance to kiss her hand. The drums are somewhere in the distance calling her to sleep as Lady Winter prepares to make her fleat and army. Come marching on this lands bringing their white conquer.

Divine like Autumn

Disolve into the air that now blows down the path with its cool tongue tasting the back of my neck. Between thighs and arms and gasps of lovers Autumn is craving a word or twice. Dance like fingers upon my throat sharp edged sheddings tumble down from limbs. Curious whispers and chattering somethings behind me, before me, befall my eyes. Save the moments inside my stomach, swelling and still wanting and calling me along. His voice is divine like Autumn.