Today
My eyes did catch the shadow of a crow
For a distilled moment I thought it may have been you
coming home
Through the winter strife

Forgive you, your aching bones
So holy I dare not hold
Forgive me
What seems to be an empty hole
But all things die
all things go

Office jobs sure are tough.

Gris-Gris

Your Lou'siana recipes have let me down.