Artist Emerging

Budding from the cold ground, an artist emerges. Only a bud, nothing definitive in color or bloom. Just a sprout from humus a bit of green yet something nonetheless. Snow falls feathery in the mountain forest. Angels shed feathers cold to the earth but heaven still sings of creation.

Live and die. Create and destroy. Beginning and ending. We are all in the creative circle of this life and all is well.

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