where it’s rooted.
Intimacy is a blooming thing. It changes as a world unfolds around it. Like the purple thistle that comes after rain. Like the black-eyed Susans that remain loyal to Spring. Intimacy is too often perceived to be the red rose, we don’t consider that it might be the thorn. That it may be the tall grasses between the wildflower patches. It’s the scorching sun. It’s … Continue reading where it’s rooted.