Little Omens

The wild baby hare in my yard.

Being told that it's okay to keep the grasses more "wild" at Your crossroads.

The sounds from the drum.

The tiny face of the snake peeking out at me from the safety of his sand.

The shapes in the art I draw.

The swirls in the crocodile jasper.

The places I haven't physically been to in years coming back to me in my dreams.

The message from the racoon in the video of the funeral.

The joy of working outside.

The birds. The butterflies. The bugs.

The tiny flash of light on metal that catches my eye, and I see it is a key.

The deep, quiet breath that inhales a sense of peace I do not often find myself so bathed in.

The beauty of water. The taste of water. The flow of water.

Thank You, Glorious Hekate, for holding me when I shake and cry.