24x24x1.5
Acrylic on gallery wrapped canvas
WHEN THE MOON COMES TO LISTEN
 (as told by the Moon)
They think I shine to be seen. But the truth is, I come to listen.
Each night, I rise over forests and fields, oceans and cities, hearing the rustle of dreams. But there's one place I always slow down.
A hillside cottage, tucked beneath an old tree, where the wildflowers grow bold and unafraid.
She’s always there. Willow Mae. 
She never calls my name, but somehow, I know when she’s waiting.
She sits on her porch with her hands in her lap and her heart wide open. The sweet sound of her humming softly drifts up from the under the porch roof.
The flowers tell me what she’s been planting.The breeze carries her thoughts to distance places. Even the smoke from her chimney draws shapes just for me.
So I linger. I hang low in the sky and let my light pour quietly across her roof and down the stairs lined with daisies. I listen not just to her, but through her, to the earth beneath her, the life around her, the stories she speaks without saying a word.
And when she finally stands and gives me that small, knowing nod, I move on.
Reassured all is well. 
Now available at Formed: An Artist Collective 210 E. Walnut St. Springfield, MO