Story Stone -- January 28

Three wise women came to call on my Honey and me. We gathered laughter, carded it well to blend with tears, spun it into a moment to be woven and well worn in memory. We took up the beat and followed it with voice, with feet on woodfloor, with drum and rainstick, with shaker shakes and gourd rattles. We traded recipes with each other for cornbread, goat cheese, and magic that would simmer well into our elder years. Old friends circling back again, finding forgotten pathways.