A butterfly is at first only a caterpillar. It is through metamorphosis — the transformation inside her silky cocoon — that the caterpillar gets its wings. Continue reading “My Metamorphosis” →
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Not every yard has a garden,
Neatly mulched, lined in stone,
Sprinkled with seeds
And sprouting roses.
When we’re weighed down by fear and anxiety, it’s too easy focus on the danger of open doors.
Remember Friday the 13th? The only thing worse than an unlucky Friday is an unlucky Monday.
Change is on my doorstep. She’s been there for some time, promising to push with gale force winds and flood the foundations if I don’t let her in.
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