The next night from the Flock came
Kirk Maynard Gull, wobbling across the sand,
dragging his leftwing,to collapse at Jonathan's feet.

"Help me," he said very quietly,
speaking in the way that the dying speak.

"I want to fly more than anything else in the world..."

"Come along then." said  Jonathan. 
"Climb  with  me  away  from  the ground,
and ( Read more... )

I leant upon a coppice gate ( Read more... )

"Even in the meanest sorts of labor, the whole soul of a man is composed into a kind of real harmony the instant he sets himself to work."
-- Thomas Carlyle

Inspired by a livejournal group which (upon viewing it) was the suck,
my new goal is to post one inspirational thing a day for a month.

DAY 1:

"Man is fond of counting his troubles, but he does not count his joys. If he counted them up as he ought to, he would see that every lot has enough happiness provided for it. "
--Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Tonight is not a good night ( Read more... )

One a hurricane.
One a summer breeze.
Both fly away in the same weekend.
One to Costa Rica, the other to a land where three rivers meet.
And the distance is equally the same.

My barren shores no longer ache for new sands to replenish them,
and are satisfied with the gentle rise and fall of the tides.

What he had once hoped for the Flock, he ( Read more... )

Lunch today with Sam was fantastic; however, for future reference, please note that spaghetti and meatballs on hot days like this is not such a good idea.

Indiana life is good. I wake up every morning at six to the sunlight and this little sparrow outside my window who screams about how proud he is of his family that lives in the eaves of the house next door. Soon, I will kill him ( Read more... )

I'm living in this amazing house with these amazing boys ( Read more... )

Tomorrow I am moving out of Whitmyre Hall, into a new life ( Read more... )