There's no such thing as an Empty Box....

Daybreak.  And Ray flies over the little bridge, pedaling through the morning sounds, following the Sunrise to home....And the boxes spill from the rickety little bicycle basket onto the deck...

This morning's finds....




I'll strip the sides off and wait for him to come home again to start painting....in tandem...the next little batch of  random cardboard stories.

And tonight,
When we get to Artisan Alley,
we'll fill the little pink box with a rainbow of words....And see which ones have wings....
Which ones reach out....to someone...
And
for a tiny second...
make a difference.

We'll watch for laughter, secret smiles, slow trains of thought....
And
we'll embrace the reactions of the strangers
that,
for just a moment,
we've known forever......