Feathering The Nest

 Now here’s a glimpse of my flower homey – my nest,  the sacred space where all the mother feather(ing) action happens. It has a hue of its own, an obliging energy that takes the mood of the moment (always) to give off converted vibes of comfort – much like trees do’ – sucking environment and processing  to exhale oxygen. 

My hearth pulses alive and encompassing in kindness. Old walls absorb our daily frantic rush, our loopy gaggling’ guffaws, our ever pedantic sermons, our complications, our prayerful vocations, our whispered adorations and, yes, my feral shrieks when I kinda’ go ballistic, hehe!

Read here: Roselle Quin’s Lady Prism  Blog