A walk in the woods this morning, on a mission.
Stone in my hand, wrapped in colors I coaxed from nature.
Time for an offering. Sowing a seed of intention. A prayer.
When I stopped at my usual tree I found it was already occupied with a clump of leaves and twigs that looked as if they'd been placed there. I dared not disturb it. Not my place.
Down around the corner another tree would act as nursery. An older oak with two split limbs like praying hands.
I placed my stone, said a few words, and walked back to the house.
Live.
Had there been more room on my stone would say "Live this life. Live it well and good and full. None of it is promised, so live."
But since this stone is just wee, there it is.
Live.
