There are cracks
where inspiration dwellsb2ap3_thumbnail_109830348_2709870642558474_4978359923544854605_o.jpg
and hope still wanders,
places where wonder seeps back
onto parched terrain
and breathes a promise
of joy to come.
There are droplets of courage
sprinkled across buds of faith
and tender shoots
taking root in hidden spaces
where they will twine into possibilities,
seeking and extending
tentative petals to the sky,
keeping the pact they made
before being,
to bloom when they can.

At this point in the year I feel held suspended in a space between summer's fire and summer's fatigue. The air is thick and stifling, the flowers are wilting, the ground is parched, and I feel a sensation in the air of the approaching time to "turn the page."

The time of the festival of First Fruits, Lammas, approaches.

(a past resource kit and audio ritual is available here [not all links within it are still current])