"but tomorrow, dawn will come the way i picture her, barefoot and disheveled, standing outside my window in one of the fragile cotton dresses of the poor. she will look in at me with her thin arms extended, offering a handful of birdsong and a small cup of light.
“hello, sun in my face.
hello you who made the morning and spread it over the fields...
watch, now, how i start the day in happiness, in kindness.”
|sketch on my chalk board wall|
|from memory. latest completed piece.|