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Abstract
d breathe between these minutes and hours on the shore,</p><p id="43d3">and, in the eye of imagination, forever drift on endless seas.</p><div id="016b" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/light-feet-and-pink-blossoms-4f98afaf89b6"> <div> <div> <h2>Light Feet and Pink Blossoms</h2> <div><h3>Evidence of all that’s good under the sun</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*6l1-ry8770IZAVEzvtovag.jpeg)"></div> </div>
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<a href="https://readmedium.com/fields-of-plenty-91c9c755f59a">
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<h2>Fields of Plenty</h2>
<div><h3>Trust there is enough</h3></div>
<div><p>medium.com</p></div>
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</div><p id="209c"><b><i>Copyright © 2020 Bridget Webber. All rights reserved</i></b></p></article></body>
Even though the sands of time flow from the ocean’s edge,
a wider stretch leans from every expanse beneath the sun and moon.
The days of us ring out in crashing waves.
Those intervals are not forgotten when the clock strikes ‘done.’
We live and breathe between these minutes and hours on the shore,
and, in the eye of imagination, forever drift on endless seas.
Copyright © 2020 Bridget Webber. All rights reserved