 | | 10/07/2016 20:42
Sur le blog Amy Nelson
the grassy hills of July
Breath has been delicate as I sing out with my banjo and guitar. I dream of stories to tell as I bring a bucket of water into the garden. I try to capture the sunlight on my strings as I put one foot in front of the other. I am both eager and confused by my busyness in July. There are festivals, there are campsites, there are rooms waiting for the singers and songwriters to loudly and proudly croon. Some days, I want it all even if wanting it all means missing the garden because I am too busy singing, but then on other days, I want to sing only for the flowers and the backyard sparrows. It is in this dilemma, I find myself grateful to be a puzzle piece....
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