100 Word Challenge: Bathed

When the wind gusts and blows,
pushing dark clouds across the springtime sky,
I escape to my greenhouse.
There I sit in a red chair
my feet resting on the gravel ground,
alone in the birdsong quiet,
bathed in warmth.
Perhaps I open a book of Mary Oliver
or my journal for jotting poems.
Light filters through the glass walls
nurturing the seedlings growing strong
in pots set on the bench.
The bay laurel waits for her return
to the summer garden.
The scent of basil seedlings, thinned,
lingers on my fingers.
I close my eyes
and settle into sanctuary.
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100 Word Challenge: Distance

It was February and I was at a conference near Aspen.  My meetings were over and the weekend was upon us.  Cold, clean snow was drifting down and collecting in the corners of my hotel room balcony.  The Colorado Rockies framed the view from my room.  The kids called to me from the window, begging to be outside.  They wanted to build a snowman and to make snow angels.  They pulled and tugged but I was immobile; curled on the couch holding tight to hope and despair; trying to protect my heart from the distance between promises kept and broken.

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