Recite a Blessing
Summer is not a time for long tomes or heavy handed adjective laden prose—nor is it the time for minimalist novels with long sentences that beg for interpretation.
It is the time for stories, for sitting around a table and sharing a story that begins, has an engaging middle, and finds an ending that is earned.
Summer is a time for poetry, for metaphors, for short stories, for tales. Beguiling tales wrapped in fantasy.
Witches and ogres can’t endure the sun. Summer is a time to examine a blade of grass and the sound of silence. It is a time to be open to the tickle of grass.
It is a time to marvel over creation.
It is a time to greet each new day with a blessing.
It is the time for stories, for sitting around a table and sharing a story that begins, has an engaging middle, and finds an ending that is earned.
Summer is a time for poetry, for metaphors, for short stories, for tales. Beguiling tales wrapped in fantasy.
Witches and ogres can’t endure the sun. Summer is a time to examine a blade of grass and the sound of silence. It is a time to be open to the tickle of grass.
It is a time to marvel over creation.
It is a time to greet each new day with a blessing.
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