Thanksgiving comes to us out of all the prehistoric dimness, universal to all ages and all faiths. At whatever straw we must grasp, there is always a time for gratitude and new beginnings.
~ J. R. Moskin
On the beach, at dawn;
four small stones clearly
hugging each other.
How many kinds of love
might there be in the the world,
and how many formations might they make
And who am I ever
to imagine I could know
such a marvelous business?
four small stones clearly
hugging each other.
How many kinds of love
might there be in the the world,
and how many formations might they make
And who am I ever
to imagine I could know
such a marvelous business?