Sighting:
Listening:
My soul leapt while listening to M'appari, Tutt'amor. I had to close my eyes.
Touching:
My soul leapt as my hands scrunched a skein of soft black wool, velvety softness to knit into a pair of fingerless gloves.
Early morning walk in the swirling snow down to the creek bed. This American Beech tree rightfully observed, glorious in its sober cinnamon...