An older piece I never posted. I no longer have my red chair and was feeling sentimental. Hey, it happens.

A little prismatic wing of love wings back for us all at once to try and cocoon its meaning and discover.

There's more

A bird above the door is at home Her babies left a little not alone She visits with feed then goes back out Patterns observed thru eyes of doubt

He said the stars were far away, yet he could hear them sing. And then he plumed his wings with fire and flew into the sun -