Sieste des papillions (haibun)

Sleeping With Butterflies by tincek-marincek — Sleeping With Butterfliesby tincek-marincek at Deviantart

Once upon a time on l’isle des Papillons, there lived a royal family and their minions. It was a small island. The king and queen had only one son and they hoped to find a suitable princess for their Fabien. But Fabien did not like the confines of the castle. It was boring, no children to play with and now that he would soon be sixteen, he had more and more thoughts of escaping this royal prison.

He was permitted to go fishing with Jean Lessard, the cooks brother. He rarely caught anything but he learned to swim, diving into the ocean and swimming with the fish made him feel a part of nature. He got to know Jean’s son Philippe. They were the same age, same height and actually looked a lot alike…it was uncanny. Lately, Jean and Philippe Lessard were taking a longer route to the beach. They found a beautiful wild garden a few kilometres into the woods. They would stop for a few hours there and eat their packed lunch Jean’s brother had prepared for the prince. Of course there was too much for one person and the three enjoyed the royal picnic.

golden lilies
tease enchanted harem,
butterflies

One day Fabien was lying down on the grass admiring the daisies and wild lilies in the garden. Butterflies were resting calmly as if on cue it was their temps de sieste. Fabien had an idea…he switched clothes with Philippe and decided they would reverse their roles for one month. Fabien was hoping it would give him the opportunity to enjoy his freedom and get to know some of the other peasants on the island. Philippe was delighted to have this chance to eat all the delicacies he had never tasted but heard of from his uncle.

And so three weeks went by and Fabien was enjoying his freedom. He had even met a beautiful girl by the name of Tanya. They would spend hours at the end of their work day in the fields, in that special garden he had introduced to his new love.

One day Fabien rose early to go for a walk in his favourite garden. He tripped along the way on a gnarled root bulging on the path and fell to the ground unconscious having hit his head on a rock. He was there all day still out cold surrounded by fluttering butterflies, hopefully a princess might wake the sleeping beauty.

budding flower
graced by butterfly kiss
beauty rests

Haibun Thinking January 20th 2015

I know I wrote too long a narrative but got carried away with the photo.

Harmony (haibun)

Robert Dowling

She looked up at the sky and saw only grey clouds. “Again, only grey poop on” she muttered. That’s what she thought of those grey clouds…pooping on her life, her mood, her heart and her soul. There was no longer any light in her life. She sighed, giving herself a bigger push to swing higher. “Maybe if I swing high enough, I’ll be able to kick one of those clouds and see rain that will wash away all the bleakness in this land.”

“Watch it, little one! You may fall and you sure as heck don’t want to fall way down there!!”squawked the black crow above, settling on a dried up tree…no leaves, just branches..

Elaina looked up at her friend. He had become her friend in the past year.He had given her the idea to braid long strips of cotton to hang from the twig that was her only seat outside her birdcage. She now had a swing which gave her a sense of freedom.

She had been disgusted by this huge black crow, at first when she was brought here by “him” but she realized over time, that Cornelius was a product of “his” master plan. Anyone who defied him or tried to escape only fell into the den of désespérance or Des-Spa as Cornelius jokingly called it. It was the bottomless pit that lay below…a sort of limbo but Elaina felt it was a hell created by “him”.

“I suppose you’re right, Cornelius, even if you are not a wise old owl,” she giggled and for a brief moment, the clouds separated and a hint of glow shone from the skies. Whenever Elaina sang or laughed, this occurred. But it never seemed to last more than 2 to 3 seconds.

Somehow, somewhere far above there was a positive force of goodness and beauty that was trying to communicate to Elaina. She felt it in the soles of her feet. Well, not really soles but she had been stripped of all her clothes. She had made herself a make-shift dress from the veils that covered her cage/home and with the long strips leftover, braided it as per instructions from daring Cornelius.

“He” had stripped her of her clothes but had the decency to jail her in a veiled insulated cage she could use as bedding or blanket on cooler nights. She didn’t mind sleeping without bedding. She felt less trapped this way. And Cornelius could keep her company when she was lonely and spread his wings to keep her warm on cooler nights. He always enjoyed her giggling and especially her singing in her soft soprano voice. She sounded like an angel in a celestial choir. Perhaps that is why the clouds separated briefly…maybe angels thought she was a lost sister.

Somehow she knew if she could sing long enough or the right harmony, the skies would be unlocked…finally breathe hope and compassion…she would just have to be patient.

The Celestial Order

patience unlocks skies

heavens unleash goodness

beauty of the soul.

Written for MindLoveMiserysmenagerie Photo Challenge #15 – birdhouse

Bad guys never win

Jean Beliveau

The bell rang and Tina rang as fast as she could to her locker, grabbed her coat and got on her bike. She could hear Barb and her friends whispering, “Hurry up, let’s get her.” They trailed behind on their bikes but fortunately Tina was taller than all of them, longer legs and bigger bike. She was a good 5 blocks ahead. Tina looked over her shoulder and knew she wouldn’t have to go in hiding, she’d lose them quick enough once she got to the foot bridge. None of them lived near there and they didn’t know all the shortcuts behind the church.

Safe, this time but what about all the other days. She’d have to tell someone sooner or later, she couldn’d stand this. For the past 5 weeks four of her peers at school had heard of a rumour spreading about her father. That was Barb with her big mouth and distorted stories. But the students believed and and Tina was so ashamed. Rumour was that her father was a “drunk and robber”. She looked at her nails in disgust. She had none left, she had started chewing the skin now she was so nervous. What could she do to stop those girls from chasing her and yelling, “Your daddy’s a drunk and a robber. You’re a loser , loser, loser!!”

She dug into her school back to get out a sheet her teacher gave all the student to have signed by parents. She didn’t remember what it was. She hadn’t been listening much, she was too distracted now. She was always daydreaming so she wouldn’t have to think all the time.

Later that night her mother gave her the signed permission slip, kissed her on the cheek and said, “Good luck, darling. I hope you win.” “Huh?” Tina looked perflexed.

“The permission if you are chosen to spend an afternoon with Jean Beliveau of Les Canadiens de Montréal and you get to meet the entire team.” How could she not have heard this…OMG, Jean Beliveau was her hero!! He was the gentleman of all gentlemen in hockey!

The next day, the teacher announced that she had all the permission slips. The teacher was to choose one student and put it in fishbowl with the other classes of the school. They had to wait until the end of the day 10 mintues before the bell rang.

At the 3:30 p.m. there was an announcement on the speaker, “The runner ups have all been submitted…and the winner is…Tina Gagnon.” Tina could not believe it. She looked up at her teacher…her bullies gave her looks with daggers but the rest of the class clapped their hands. Tina`s cheeks turned red. Her teacher asked her and the 4 students who had been bullying her to stay in after the bell. OMG, now what, Tina thought. Her belly was churning and she thought she was going to throw up.

The classroom was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Mrs. Grant leaned on the front of her desk and looked at each child. Tina had no clue what was going on.

“I know you are wondering why I asked you all to stay. I received a disturbing phone call from the ticket master at the train station two weeks ago.” Tina gulped. This was her hiding place when the bullies caught up to her. She would stop at the train station that was half way home, run into the washroom and lock the door and pray and wait and pray for the bullies to get tired and leave. She had been doing this for a month now.

Mrs. continued. “Monsieur Castonguay said he was concerned about 4 girls who were chasing a certain student here and yelling curse names and chanting things about her father. Do you know anything about this, girls?” The four culprits lowered their heads in shame. Tina just managed to blush…it seemed the only thing she could manage at this point.

“After he called I asked a student from another class to follow Tina and see who was chasing her. You see monsieur knew Tina very well and asked her what the problem was but she refused to name her assailants. She even begged him not to tell her mother or the school. Now that is pretty darn brave and nice of her don`t you think? So my other student came back with a report after following Tina and her “chasers” for two weeks and gave me the names of each student.

Now, I know who you all are and you know what? I am not going to tell your parents THIS TIME. I chose Tina`s name to be put in the runner ups to see monsieur Jean Belliveau because she deserves this treat. And that will be a lesson to all of you, that being mean and vindictive to anyone NEVER pays. Have I been understood?”

All four heads bobbed eagerly and Tina was no longer blushing but had the most radiant smile as she puffed out her chest and stared at her teacher.

Written for: Tale Weaver’s Prompt # 1 – Reality, Meet My Fiction March 27, 2014 by Oloriel

Le `tit vieux du Manoir Merveilleux

#FWF Free Write Friday: Image Prompt

Season 2, Week 6, Dungeon Prompts this week, Purpose and the Art of Holding Back

Le `tit vieux du Château Merveilleux
Le `Tit vieux était si mal compris et sérieux
allons voir ce qui se passe dans son milieux
Ah! vous ne saviez pas qu’il était si généreux.
Écoutez! voici une histoire d’un homme merveilleux
Je vais vous présenter monsieur Elphège Vielleux.

*************

Maître Elphège Veilleux died suddenly. He was a recently retired corporate lawyer. The village were mourning such a generous and wise man. He was only sixty-two. They say he had an aneurism. That is supposed to be quick death…not too much suffering except, of course, for the survivors. What a shock! Such sadness and harrowing grief due to this unexpected ending!

A few days following the funeral, Notaire Bergeron requested the presence of Iréné Veilleux, the only son of Elphège. He was 33 years old and still never worked a day in his life. He had been kicked out of 5 private schools, 2 universities and had been in and out of 8 detox centres. He was currently trying to fight the battle with his heroin addiction. He thought to himself, if he can settle his father`s estate soon enough, he had good intentions to get into a private clinic in Magog, La Façon d’être. He had spoken to his father about this last month. “If only he were still alive to see him succeed…IF only he could this time.”

The appointment of the reading of his father`s will was two o`clock and Iréné arrived just a few minutes early. The receptionist offered him a cup of coffee and led him to the board room. Iréné was confused. “Why must the meeting be in such a big room when he was the only beneficiary?”

He took a place near the head of the long oval cherry wood table. He heard people arriving at the front of the office and looked towards the mahogany doors curiously. The double doors opened and he was surprised to see so many people in the waiting room.

Madame Champagne, the village librarian, monsieur Desrosier, the accountant, mademoiselle Gagnon, the head nurse at La Maison Renaud and monsieur Pierre Antoine Colbert but everyone called him PaCo, the former groundskeeper of Elphège Veilleux`s estate. He lived in the cottage behind le manoir. Iréné was a bit surprised to see PaCo arrive. He was in his late fifties but he had not aged well; arthritis had ravaged his body. He had been with Elphège since he was a child. His mother was Elphège`s gouvernante and raised PaCo in the old carriage house. There had always been an understanding that Paco could stay in his humble but comfortable loft for as long as he wished. He was a bit of an enigma to most here. No one knew where he went every afternoon returning at twilight.

His stride was shaky, shuffling towards the nearest chair, he was the first seated and the others all took a seat. Monsieur le notaire took his place and advised he had very little to say, “Monsieur Veilleux has recorded his last Will and Testament on this video, a copy is in all your envelopes along with necessary supporting documents as well. Allons-y…”

The video commenced: Monsieur Veilleux is seated in the carriage house in an overstuffed arm chair…

“Bonjour mes chers amis…mon fils, Iréné. Comme vous voyez…I am a humble man. I was born in a privileged environment with little needs but those who know me well, I have always worked hard. I love this village and if you are viewing this video, I have already taken off to new territories; hopefully I will be joining ma belle et douce Alys; perhaps I will also meet with maman et papa who taught me to respect nature and human dignity. I have tried to do both. The orchard is not as vibrant as it was but it has managed well enough to offer work to many in the village. For that I am pleased.

During the ice storm several years ago, I was fortunate enough having 3 generators and welcomed many of you wonderful people in my home. What a learning experience mother nature offered me. That entire month co-habitating under difficult climatic circumstances was a turning point for me. You were privileged in one sense, being in college outside the triangle that got hit from this ice storm. I had forged closer relations with some of you who are here today. For that I thank you. Merci mes chers amis…you have blessed me with a gift that is priceless …the gift of purpose.

Voici, mon cher fils, I want to offer you this wonderful opportunity…you have no idea how enrichissant it feels to have such a blessing and here is my offering to you with love and hope that you grow with this dowry.

Iréné, you have struggled since the death of Alys, ta charmante maman; you were so young. A boy at eleven still needs the love and comfort of sa maman. Since then you left me, your family, your friends and followed your own path and got lost along the way. I only hope you are here, present, as my friends are viewing this last discourse I share with you.

Sometimes when a person is lost in obscurity he finds himself in the clutches of des esprits douteux. For you, it has been the spirits of the mind that robbed your will. You did not know that addiction was the poison of your forefathers. Alas, yes, and this poisonous concoction disguised as a healing cocktail turns into a possessive demon…who robbed me of my son and deprived you of living. I know you have suffered and still ache, mon fils.

I am turning le Manoir Merveilleux into a halfway house for men and women recovering from addiction. I have more space than I have ever required and since the ice storm I have been exploring opportunities to develop my purpose in the days remaining in my life. I have visited Le Virage and la Maison Foster and mademoiselle Gagnon has helped me in this research, educated me more on the wrath of addictions and the long rehabilitation required to remain sober. I never realized how difficult this could be. I always assumed you did not have enough willpower or that I had spoiled you too much and somehow I had enabled you. Pardonne-moi, mon fils, I was so ignorant.

I learned that many font des rechutes, relapses as well. So I asked my friends to explore this more for me. Madame Champagne headed the research. We found that when a person who had the support of loving friends and family, had more chances in succeeding but what seemed to be a stronger influence was having a sense of purpose. The strongest motivator seemed to be purpose…un raison d’être was key to maintaining sobriety. Perhaps it is not the only source of success but I am willing to wager it may be what the doctor ordered for you, mon fils.

Paco will be the Clinical Director.

Iréné gasped and almost spilled his coffee on his lap. The villagers listened but did not seem as shocked by this announcement. Paco lowered his eyes and stared at his hands waiting for his childhood friend to finish his discourse. He was saddened by this great loss…a brother in so many ways and his confidant.

“Paco has a PhD in psychology as you may not have known and has been the psychologist at the Cowansville Correctional Insititute for the past 25 years working the evening shift; in 1998 I asked him if he would consider getting his certification in addictions and I am pleased he seemed as interested in this field of study as I did.

Paco is a humble man, Iréné. Do not judge him by his modest living and scruffy attire. He wears the same outdoor garb when chopping wood or raking the leaves, that belonged to his father who died not long after your mother passed. He says it brings him closer to his father`s spirit. He maintains the grounds at his insistence for he says it frees his spirit and feeds his mind. We already have students who come regularly to maintain the grounds who are part of another programme I have set up for aspiring college students. When they complete their high school, I will cover their tuition fees IF they succeed in their studies for a total of 6 years. Education is a free pass to life, my son.

Paco has always lived in the carriage house where he was raised and it is with great humility he accepted to take his place in le Manoir. The carriage house is being refurbished and all latest digital instruments helpful in pursing post-secondary studies will be installed along with updated furnishings. This will be your new home, Iréné, once you return from La Façon d’être. I am hoping you will try one more time…giving sobriety a chance.

When you return, you will have access to an addiction counsellor and group support in le Manoir anytime. You will be given a list of chores you are required to do as all the residents do at this new halfway house. Once you have completed your term here, you will have access to the carriage house as your new home for as long as you wish. I have set aside funding for you to eventually return to academia. The mind is a precious gift one must not waste…you are privileged in so many ways, mon fils. I hope you will benefit from this opportunity.

I have one stipulation for you, mon fils, if you wish to continue receiving the monthly allowance from your trust fund, you must volunteer a minimum of 10 hours a month in a non-profit agency that offers support to children, youths, men, women or families in need. Once you find your “calling” PaCo and mademoiselle Gagnon must approve the organization and will be your advisor/mentor along this rich journey.

I will always be with you, mon fils, in love and spirit.”

**********************************************

I started writing a story about this prompted image and along the way another prompt from Dungeon Prompts this week, Purpose and the Art of Holding Back was on my mind and it slipped into the theme of this story. I thought to myself, Well, that is sort of cheating, isn’t it? But I don’t write many narratives or poems on this blog and I thought this would be an appropriate contribution. I hope you enjoyed it, Cheryl-Lynn.

Wolf Girl (haibun)

My contribution to this great prompt at Free Write Friday. Thank you Kellie.

A short Narrative

Wolf Girl

Erik Boone Art

They called her the Wolf girl at the hospital on the psych ward. No one had been able to approach her …much. She was like a wild animal. If you came too close to her, she would howl; if she was hungry she would stand at your table, looking at your tray with the most appealing eyes, no one could refuse her. The staff was curious about her but all, without exception, fell in love with her especially when she would curl up into a ball in the fetus position on the centre of her bed…thumb in mouth, lights ON. If ever a staff member felt pity for anyone sleeping with those bright neon lights and turned it off in her room, she would sit up, howling, eyes wide-eyed holding on to her blanket for dear life.

Her name was Torey. Child services brought her in 3 months ago to Emergency for a check up and after examination by doctors as well as the psycho-educator in chief, they assumed she would get her discharge no later than 3 days (which was customary in “those” cases). But she never got that release and Dr. Shelley, the Psycho-Educator in chief would not release her. She had a different reason at each court hearing…this last one was selective mutism, and that this youth was sexually assaulted multiple times for years. Torey was 11 by now but what the hell did “multiple times for years”even mean? Dr. Shelley just knew that this child should NOT be placed in foster care without guarantees she would be safe. The system had failed her in the past when this child had put her trust in adults who should have kept her safe. Dr. Shelley knew there are NO such guarantees. She took it upon herself to make sure she remain the ward of the court and in the children’s psychiatric ward indefinitely. She had hope that some day soon, she just may make a breakthrough. Torey may decide to talk.

It was December 24^th, 3 and a half months since Torey’s admission, and she was in her daily interview with Dr. Shelley. This therapist had a unique approach with youths, those with selective mutism. Her past 10 years experience working solely with teens who had autism spectrum had given her a new skill…EEP. Her colleagues, mostly professors at the local university scoffed at her when she said it was actually a skill that had to be learned with working with “exceptional” youths. EEL stands for Exceptional Empathetic Listening skills. Dr. Shelley had a knack of drawing out the most difficult and resistant child into trusting her enough to start talking…even if it was one hour a day, that was a miracle in many cases she had worked on.

Torey was different. She was brilliant. She had a way of knowing what adults were thinking and what they needed. This is how they discovered her exceptional talent or sixth sense.

One day, Nurse Grant, who had worked on the pediatric ward on the psychiatric section for 20 years, walked on the floor with a limp wearing tinted glasses. Staff all inquired with sympathy what had happened to her over the weekend and she just brushed them off with a, “Ah just clumsy old me bumped into the glass bus shelter. With the darn sleet and snow mingled, I could not see an inch in front of me and I banged the corner of my left eye and slipped and sprained my ankle. Enough said, no need for pity from anyone, so I got these glasses to avoid your mushy sad looks. Now ya’ll get to work!” She did have a bit of a bark and everyone went back to work. No one asked her again and most avoided looking at her in the eye…or rather, glasses…except for Torey. She looked at her suspiciously, sucking her thumb. She circled around her looking up at her and raised her eyebrow.

Then she followed Nurse Grant into the nurse’s lobby and sat right next to her on the couch while she sipped her coffee. Torey looked up and did the most surreal thing…she spoke! “He gave it to you, didn’t he?” she said in a raspy voice. Nurse Grant almost spilled her coffee and looked at Torey wide eye, in shock.

“What you talkin’ about young lady?!” and Torey did not balk…did not feel intimidated one bit. She just looked up at her this time with compassion, and puppy dog eyes and gave Nurse Grant a hug, whispering in her ear, “I know what them do to you.”

Nurse Grant just savoured this moment because she had a feeling that Torey did, in fact, know.

Later that afternoon, Dr. Shelley was advised about Torey’s first spoken words in private by Dr. Shelley who had to come clean of her own personal circumstances. Dr. Shelley, called in Torey and asked her, “Well, now, Torey. You certainly gave us a bit of a surprise today and I have to say a very nice surprise. I want to thank you.” Torey had arrived arms crossed, ready to keep her silence but was cut off guard when Dr. Shelley was thanking her. She dropped her arms to her side and raised an eyebrow and waited…she was the prize of detectives…she had to know for sure…

Trust no one ever!
Exceptional listening.
Suitable moments.

Dr. Shelley continued, “Torey, Nurse Grant has been in a dratted abusive relationship for years and no one but no one has ever had the courage to confront her and plead with her to get out and to safer environment. Today, Nurse Grant came up to me asking to live in the nurses quarters for the night staff temporarily until she found a new apartment. So I want to thank you for doing something not one counsellor, nurse, doctor or psychologist was able to do until you did.”

Torey stared at her sizing what he had just heard, and took her usual seat in front of Dr. Shelly’s arm chair and said, “Yeah, well, it’s about time she left that f…..g loser. She deserves better.”

That was the first session Torey felt she could trust Dr. Shelley and started disclosing the sexual abuse she was exposed to by her father from the age of 7 to 10 and the abuse in foster car the months following her removal from her home.

Trust has to be earned…Torey was not fool enough to trust just anyone…she knew who could be trusted and she chose to speak to Nurse Grant because she saw peer…a soldier in the fight against abuse in her…as for Dr. Shelley, well, gosh, Torey, knew she had EEL, she was just waiting for the right moment to feel she could actually trust her.

A Christmas Spirit

Shannon O’Donnell had been daydreaming, sitting in her rocker as her boys were playing a board game. She smiled fondly at her sons. She felt so fortunate that they enjoyed playing nicely. They never complained about not having computers or television. They were content just being together. Tomorrow she would bring them to the public library to get new books and stay for a few hours. There, they were allowed to get on the computer. The two youngest liked to play on-line games but Liam enjoyed doing research. He was surely to become something great someday, she thought proudly.

She went to the kitchen pantry to start dinner for her children who’d been whining to eat soon. “Come on, Mommy, we’re hungry!” the three shouted in union. The youngest of 5 years old yelled louder than the oldest of 12. Hmmm, she thought, that one takes after his grand-daddy for sure!!

She knew it was time to start scrounging for something to eat…She looked with dismay in her pantry…there was not much to rummage here, she thought. She had to go back to the welfare office to get more food vouchers. She had a can of beans, a large bag of sticky rice and half a carton of molasses (she always had enough molasses, so rich in iron and good for her growing family). This was not good indeed, she thought. What would she make for their lunches for school tomorrow? What will she do for the entire week? She did not have enough money to pay for the bus to the welfare office PLUS the food bank. She had to make a decision quick.

She cooked a big batch of rice and wondered what she would do. Then suddenly, she had an idea! She would make bean balls. She would roll up some beans in the rice and make balls. It would harden and be a great snack! She’d add molasses to the beans to make it sweet and sticky. Why that’s a grand idea! She thought hopefully.

She spread the cooked sticky rice that was on two large cookie sheets and spread the warm beans that she’d heated in a pot with molasses, sparingly to cover BOTH cookie sheets. Then she decided to have the boys participate and tell them her plan. They knew all too well that they had little money and did their best to make the best of things.

“Patrick, Liam and Sean! Come on over here and help Mommy. I need your gifted artistic hands to help me make Rice-Bean balls for school tomorrow.” They ran over to the kitchen table excited and shoulders held back pompously. They were young men helping their mom!!

They managed to roll out 60 balls. They still had not had their supper but they seemed to have forgotten how hungry they actually were. Mae boiled an onion in chicken broth and added the leftover rice…this would do for tonight, she thought.

Tomorrow the boys would sell each ball for .25 cents at school. The students often had Loonies and Toonies and the teachers liked her little special treats. That would give her at least $12.00…(she would give 4 balls to each son for their lunch and sell the remaining 48) enough to get a few things to get through the week. She could go to the corner store and get a few things to eat. Thank goodness they were part of the EMO programme with free Eggs, Milk and Oranges each week delivered on Friday mornings. At least the government did one thing right by offering healthy items for eligible families.

The boys did not complain; they were excited about their new project. Liam, the 12-year-old used to like calling his family the O’Donnell Entrepreneurs…If you need it, we’ll find a way to get it or make it.

“Mom,” Liam looked at his tired mother, “You know if we just mark “donations are appreciated”, we usually average more than .25 per item. Do you want me to do that?
His mother looked proudly at his son who was already 5 inches taller than her. “Maybe another time, Liam, honey. I don’t want to take a gamble on the generosity of folks this week. We need at least $12 to get through the week. Is that okay by you, son?” He nodded and went off to bed.

She finished washing the last of the dishes and got out her notebook to write in her journal. She wrote for a few hours. She yawned, “Time for bed now.” But she added one more line before turning in, “Please, Great Spirit, make it that we get a nice surprise for Christmas, so the food bank will spare at least a small chicken for our dinner. Thank you for blessing me with the finest lads in the county!”

The holidays have their highs and lows for most folks. During this season, think of giving a little extra for your local shelter or food bank. This year our office surprisingly doubled their collection of non-perishable food and toys. Just think about it…if everyone gave a little extra, that would fill a few tummies for sure.

Give just a little, it’s better than naught
look at a homeless person this week in the eye and smile…
even if you don’t have money that particular day,
that’s okay,… just don’t turn away…
they’re also actually human by the way;
if you do have something to spare, then
don’t just throw the money their way…
look at the person and wish him/her a good day.
It does make a difference to be treated with dignity.
And trust me, you’ll feel better too!

Happy Holidays

golden lilies tease enchanted harem, butterflies

budding flower graced by butterfly kiss beauty rests

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Wolf Girl

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golden lilies
tease enchanted harem,
butterflies

budding flower
graced by butterfly kiss
beauty rests