And considering I got my start writing (aside from the early years, reading my diary to the first grade class!) making, painting, and binding my own poetry books. This morning I awoke with a long forgotten poem in my head.
Somewhere softest in the lofty breezes, blow without, unknown of whence the throw of creatures blow. Abandoned spaces just because the whipping wind has left its traces. We find there still a cross of faces, when the wind softly effaces. ~karen lee 1996
