http://johnsmyth.ie/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/10/beech-tree-1.jpg?w=840 Sacrosanct I sit under this loyal tree o' mine, Gazing at the azure sky that beams at me with benefaction. Today I focus on the ladybug who decided my heart was soft and open enough to be trusted. She ventures her tiny feet upon my calloused fingers. One full moon ago here I lay, nursing the hurt I felt as a result of a letter written to me in ire by a rejected suitor. The hurt was more because I had to decline his interest, than it was to do with those harsh words of little consequence. Sitting here, my bare feet on the grass, I thought of the boy who wrote one hysterically funny note, and then chose not to respond to my witty repartee. This young laddie from the Midlands encouraged me to release and transmute into your roots, the layers of bitterness and resentment for all they've ever said or done. And many full moons afore, I found myself here, in the cold and...