There is so much to see from where I sit waiting for the Ring of Fire . . . or the abyss where the cries of the lost eagle . . . would rise up to meet my waiting arms . . . I look up to hear the hush whisper of the waning moon and the silent dripping of the dew that must be the remnant of the cast skies at midnight . . . I cried out and there in the pocket of my moist ears came the whispers of the night that bade me to go and rest. The hour is at hand . . .
Two shots taken of one of the plants in our house Heaven. One taken from the top and the other from below the leaves. My Black and White Weekend thoughts for Dragonstar.