IT IS TIME There comes a timesomewherein the midst of June. When Mother Earthshakes outher blanket of warmsweet existence. Whispering, it is time. Queue the rhythmicsounds of bees;busily pollinatingeverything in sight. And everythingis as it should be.
Even when,the saltyocean airwhips itselfinto afrenzy ofactivity. Even then,it isthe mostpeacefulof spacesto findone's self.