February 14, 2021 - If you write, you evolve.

If you write, you evolve. And every spring the snow melts; and the trees’ branches find leaves again. For years, you thought you were the snow, enjoying flurries of writing spells that grew into nor’easter storms. Then came the eternal years of a writing life lived like leaves: ideas and lines sprouting anew with each warm sun. Then strong and steady, your writing life became the tree itself: its limbs and branches, its roots and trunk and leaves –––– basking in the sun and swaying in the wind, bending but never broken. Then for a while, you decided you were all of those things: the snow, the leaves, the wind, and the tree. But then you decided to just write; but then you decided to evolve.