Blooming [for Mama]

  Shimmering there, hanging like The Veil, the sky, translucent like your skin, the glow you always carried– which carried you– will carry you on. / The day I plucked your last flowers, and recalled the way you would point to each little bloom– chrysanthemum, hydrangea, the ones you called the black-eyed Susans and the

Hello? It’s Me.

I’ve been wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet… Jokes. I’ll meet you, Adele, but only if you introduce me to whoever does your brows. So anyway, I haven’t written publicly for a really long time. (My last post was way back in August – you can read it here. It’s still


Midnight folds into a new day that looks and feels just like the old one; but the slow arc of the moon creates a silver path to follow © B Morel, 2014 A New Year’s beacon of hope for all those who have traversed a hard year… May you find joyful moments in the year