
Late spring · the lower hollow
A Stump, Some Quartz, and a Long Quiet
I found a stump in the lower hollow where the moss had begun reclaiming the grain. Laid the new piece down for a photograph and the woods went still — just sun, and the soft hum of bees somewhere beyond the wild black raspberries.
The elders say rose quartz remembers tenderness — that it carries the soft places we forget we have.
More from the journal
