More of the Same, More of that Same

… and by that I mean, dear goodness, who can read any news of any kind - no matter what color your ballot may be.
or skin.

If it’s not a news anchor’s mother going missing, or some other tragedy of the so. many. other people hurting, scared. And yet. Again. I got off the bus and early spring blooming trees careened my face. I couldn’t stop it. More and more of these thin lines of sacred serenity. Absorbed along with our daily horror. It’s both.