Adriana.K.Maxwell
Twinkle, twinkle, little star, up above the world so far, sparkle down on my little one, when the day on earth is done.
The metal glints in the stone. This ruin is old enough. The moss has crumbled and blurred the faces of the statues. There is something magic here.
Narrow walkway, not even big enough for partial shadow, always shaded with moss growing in bricks through the grafitti
The brine of the sea stains the hull, crusted in salt and barnacles, tattoos of the sea, of the waves, and the wind, all alone in a moving wilderness.
The plume of smoke floats up from the mountain. The wind curls up and the birds swirl around.
The grove of birch waves yellow leaves, deer step through sunshine puddles, trillium at the edge of the woods. The girl leans her back against ridged bark.
Gauze sky, smeared with fog, crystal breath, grey blanket of mist, a goose honks on the pond. Dew drops dipping the grass down.
The bird swings on a reed, trilling out the shimmering of the water, warm sun on my back, raspberries swelled enough to burst on my fingers.
The bramble protects the garden, blackberry bush tangles stabbing the unwary wanderer. You must be careful, brushing them to the side.
Ginger was my Breyer horse, given by a mom at church whose daughter had grown out of him and became a missionary in China.
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writing since 2023 · 700 entries · 693 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Adriana showed up.
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the words Adriana reaches for
skynowwaterfingerssunsometimeshandsgrassredfeetdarkwindsoftbreatheyeslight