as featured in the March/April 2010 issue of Cowgirl Magazine available in Barnes & Noble, Borders and other national outlets

Sky blue stones of hardened hope adorn the warriors’ throats, wrists and arrow tips as their shattered dreams of yesteryear flash like cedar shafts fletched with despair. Mother Earth’s translucent tears are laced together in the dark web of pain she weeps for errant children long since scattered by the four winds.

Few listen to her whispers. Few feel the shame or the pressure of the past. Few see the truth that floats upon the fragile robin’s egg shaped by the First People’s hands. So glows the turquoise soul sinking beneath the amber waves of grain on Turtle Island.

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Excerpts from Previous Posts

I love the rain. I love the sound of it, especially as I’m waking up or going to sleep. It’s a primal womb sensation. Sometimes, I’ll awaken in the middle of the night and just lie there, listening to it, like a 5-year-old who is afraid he might miss something if he’s lulled back to dreamland.  
 The Kat
Rainy Day People