Pages in a pile, left with a smile.

Sometimes It would seem, the words I want to write are buried by drawings. Much like the leaf piles in my youth. I cherish the fall time in the Great Lakes. Raking the leaves or sketching the form allows me to briefly move past to the next. Some of the words get clearer but there are always more leaves and images. This realization could drive one mad if it weren’t for a children’s perspective kept intact. And I do take delight in diving into the pile of inspiration I gathered in the yard of my imagination. If only to show it to you tomorrow and again.

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