We move and move and in our moving collect debris.
The frayed strands of relationships.
Our wandering hopes.
The crumpled notes.
They snag our jackets and cling to the souls of shoes, waiting for our stillness.
A moment of rest from the rush of wind to settle in.
So that the pieces of life can enter your skin, transitioning from the weight you carried to finding their place in your body.
Everything in its place.
Crow & Quill 