May there be light in 2022

 

Walking

 

and the shadows it creates.  
Not to mention the stories,
the imaginary friends.  
Those friends remembered. 
A few spilled leaves.

Not understanding

an image (a piece of art, a piece of writing, a combination of such) doesn't preclude enjoyment.  There's joy in the experiencing.  

December is the time for gloves.

What looks to me like a glove, transforms into a bearded iris.  December, no less.  I'm thinking of petals as flower-gloves.

A cathedral of molten light

 or tears.  Which do you think?  And who were the builders?  Who laid the cornerstone?

Most definitely

 the voice in a dream!  Of which -- dreaming that is -- I am doing much of late.  Less cooking.  Wonder why?  

and if I told you...

this is an image of an empty glass put through an app to add color, would you think the glass half empty?