Found this on a postcard Nia sent on a wing & a prayer–probably while lost or perhaps while hemming pants–just before dialing up a new heading in “Of Nia’s Ships” which is only a working title anyway as I don’t know where we’re going yet, or how to fly blind like she can, but I thought, or maybe dreamt, that I heard the word, “…coffee…,” a whisper this ‘morn while coming to so I’m going to go work on that whilst she sets navigation.
* - --- -- Mari, Mari by Amani's needle- a stitch Please, Send us a thread The stars Have gone out... The sky is dead Our little moon Sleeping now Tides ebb, warming Under blanket & bed Dreaming, Mari A dream, please, Send our dreaming stars To fill his little head
Photo by Alex Shuper on Unsplash