

the dreamerDo you remember the days when you scooped me up and I thrived in your sand-grain pores? It was autumn then, the leaves were too crisp and red back then, and you know how terrified of fire I was. In the summers I turned into burning coal and cracking volcano shells, and in the winter I would be blown away in the wind, acrobatic summersaults until I became another piece of hail in an ice storm.the dreamer
But the hail is beginning to thaw and soak sweetly in the swelling ground. The mud will spring grass and flowers and forests will grow before my eyes. Im still a naive fledgling but you have your own freedom to chase after. Im th
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RIVER'S RISIN'.
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ღ Kristina Kotarski Photography ღ
ღ My Prints ღ
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no act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted
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