“Everything was gone, the garden of wind and light, the Chrysalis, the Mother and her sister-crones, the rowan tree, everything. I was in a grove–no, it was a triad of trees: apple, oak, hazel. And at my feet something that… — Debi Cimo Copy Share Image
“She was born as music–a single, mellow note suspended in the air. Suspended as if strung from nothing, held into possibilities of sound. Her… — Debi Cimo Copy Share Image
“It was the moths that first revealed the change. Grey-tipped whispers in the moonlit night. Two or three here, a single one there. White… — Debi Cimo Copy Share Image
“Everything was gone, the garden of wind and light, the Chrysalis, the Mother and her sister-crones, the rowan tree, everything. I was in a… — Debi Cimo Copy Share Image
“His voice a rhythm like rain, words rolling over themselves... “You are distinguished from the leaves by the shape of your eyes. They are… — Debi Cimo Copy Share Image
