The Rabbit Creek House

There is an essential desire, which roams blindly across this palm; open and free. It is both full of meaning, and void of any. The wandering hearts search for life. Lost love. A kiss, a look, a hug. A walk in the field takes a walk in the park. Ice down the noisy wood stove, it’s got a flame so hot it burns up spirit. Spirit bubbling away in an imaginary place, carried by a gentle breeze, destination make-believe. The wind is the pilot, and only she knows when and where to carry the fragrance of love.