6/3/2015

gaia mouse autobiography, death, depression, memory, moods, mystery, sky, travel April 17, 2017 1 Minute

Spring is the time of death.
Look out the windows;
Mist and memory drift
from the verdant hills.

At road’s curb,
mangled
bat wing
slate sky.
I drive.
Death lays.

Published by gaia mouse

I am a writer, painter, potter, and photographer. I was drawn to writing late in life due to my professional life as a speech-language pathologist (SLP). This led me to an interest in language, social communication, and writing. I believe creativity heals ourselves and our society, and is a way to find an ethical, sustainable future. View all posts by gaia mouse

Published April 17, 2017