It did not announce itself—no grand ascent, no ceremonial rise.Elevation, I’ve learned,rarely makes a spectacle of its arrival. It begins…

I do not announce my abundance—It lingers. Like the scent of herbs warming in oil,slow, deliberate, unmistakable—something ancient rising from…

The foliage arrived before the guests—as it should.Leaves first, then laughter.Green before glitter.The house understands this orderand has arranged itself…

Nature does not announce her warmth—She leans into it.Sunlight slips across the skinas if it has always known you,as if…

April does not knock.She leans in—warm, persuasive—like a secret finally ready to be told. She arrives in stretches—light lengthening its…

I move now by quieter instructions—not the frantic kind that once disguised itself as urgency,but a steadier current,a knowing that…

You tell me I’m sexy—as though it were a revelation. It isn’t.I’ve long since made peace with my reflection,long since…

I have always been gifted—not in the way that begs to be announced,but in the way certain rivers knowExactly where…

They don’t make this anymore—not in factories, not in hurried roomswhere love is assembled from convenienceand shipped overnight. I checked.…

This season, I said yes—not dramatically, not with violins,But the way a door opensWhen it has always known the hand.…