It feels like the ragged edges of January’s grief, disjointed, bent: like spent grains blooming florals at the bottom of a china tea cup. Yet, look again. See what’s there.

Rawness clings to soggy branches sweeping the barren meadow with spectral fingers. Mist dulls perspective, blanches color, and clouds skylines—There seems no wholeness. Yet, something keeps the components together. Bereft of apparent life, it speaks to the listening heart, floods the eye with satisfying dissonance.

A strange fare is afoot inviting our imaginations to feast upon what many call, the unsavory, but it is anything but that.

Do look again … Beauty has many flavors …