Wildflowers growing around the barrier in the centre of the motorway— beauty will take hold anywhere, given the sliver of a chance. Even if they are missed by almost everybody speeding past, still they blaze— golden as sunlight, persistent as hope.
All p0sts in hope
metta retreat, daybreak
dawn came with a rush and sibilance of air as geese flew overhead, a solitary crow on a telegraph wire, watching. the sky steaked with brilliant pink fading to soft antique rose, lavender clouds with luminous edges. bumblebees already bumblebeing, busy on the sunshine yellow bird’s foot trefoil and the sun itself, slowly emerging from the clouds, golden and brilliant.