My head is full of flowers.. and the garden needs sorting out. It's funny- the role I play. Sometimes I'm the gardener, bent over my vibrant oasis with the fervor of a mother over her child. I prune and trim, careful not to cleave any of the blossoms. On different occasions, I am the honey bee that travels on the whims of the wind, fertilizing the ideas that root within each blossom. On yet other occasions, I am some unseen force residing in the sky, rendered useless to affect the happenings before me.

The meadow is home all the same..