A World of Colors
The Fun and Fancy Free Art of Pixels
Lessons from Grandmothers
Poking the Gravid Chicken
A Waterless Seaby Shannon Wolff
I stand on a hill, watching as the wind rushes past me
The wind plays in its dry ocean
I hear the wind whisper as it tugs at my hair
Like an impatient child the wind pulls on my dress
I watch as the wind makes the grassy waves break anew
Almost apologetically the wind returns, any anger clearly spent
As the wind leaves me once more for its wave like play
The wind kisses my palm as it takes the feather from me
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