A quick fierce hug when words sting and words can't wholly mend.
I've made my home a little winter den, where I've holed up most of the week, picking away at work, reading by lamplight, storing up some energy for the coming months.
Tipsy on daiquiris and the wildest thing they do is play Scrabble. I love them.
Outside the library, as I tuck books into my backpack, a squirrel hops up on the bench beside me. It cocks its head at me and crimps its hands close to its chest. I wish I had something to give it.
The snow looks like tissue paper torn up and puffed on by the wind.
Watching the sunrise on a heavily clouded day. The sky starts off charcoal, lightens to lead, shifts to cobalt and settles at last on the tranquil blue-gray of an agate stone.
A pool of light, a game board, a plate of rolled figs covered in coconut shavings.