Wilds whisper yet I long for their roar
In the hollow silence I listen for depth
The eventual splash of a bucket dropped into the well
Does not come
I learn to accept a bubbling brook tucked into the trees
When what I wanted was the bellow of the ocean
Crashing waves and endless horizons
Not before me but within me
Snow falls
Not so much a storm but a gentle covering
White wash
Settling
Erasing the past
A part of my passion and dreams
Colors
The horizon
Standing out alone
She adorns me with tiny jewels
Glistening silver and white
That last no more than an instant on my naked flesh
And then I am left
With nothing
Gin Getz 
Gin, and maybe you were really left with everything? You left for us your beautiful prose -thank you. Peace, T.
Oh Tricia, yes! There never is nothing, is there?
We foolishly tell ourselves it might be so…until we open our eyes again.
Some little gems don’t melt and go away. I’m learning to see them, too.