A year

And somewhere along the week, another year passed and slipped into the next.


A prime number year.

A brutal year as also a gift.

A year of long walks in silence.

A year of much healing and many words.

A year of becoming, on a mat and in the woods.

A year of teachers under open skies and a blue mat.


A year of thanks.


by the resident artist



7 thoughts on “A year

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