in this year now past, i have lost my heart and found it again; lost my faith and found my hunger; fallen in love and learned to live without.

these days i find myself comfortable in my own skin, smiling at the awkward grace of gerberras, wishing i could know and knowing i can't, laughing easily, unafraid, and desperately enamored of life.

its time to move again:
undusted.blogspot.com



where are the songs of spring? ay, where are they?
think not of them, thou hast thy music too -
while barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
and touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
among the river sallows, borne aloft
or sinking as the light wind lives or dies
- keats, 'to autumn'