Blossom's Blog

In the anxious hours between light and dark, when insomnia cracks its whip and finally drives me from my bed to sit alone in my living room, I look to the trees that line my street for comfort. Though solid and stoic during daylight hours, at night these Midwestern Maples become dancers in the Beijing Ballet. Lifted by the streetlights, their branches reach up, casting bamboo-like shadows upon my wall; soft chiaroscuro images that sway and sashay insomnia out the door and lull me once again into the safety of sleep.