When a branch falls in the forest, these days, we wonder about the ill will that stirred the wind. “All hands on deck,” “we need everyone to help.” “The trees are old, my mother is old, my tired worn-out lament is old.” Big branches down in the front yard after the storm.
further considerations
middle years on golden pond
generations of trauma, bread to our bones
TATTERHOOD'S MOTHER
This is The RiverSong Vibe, a newsletter about The River's Song.

The RiverSong Vibe