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I am UmberDove.

And by that, I mean an artist.  One who hears stories in the wind, who paints because it is what her soul tells her to do, who smiths because the muse moves through her fingertips, who loves nothing more than the promise of an unexplored trail, the sound of the ocean in her ears, and scent of a serious cup of coffee.


After the Hail


After the Hail
Oh the places we'll run...
After the Hail
After the rain,
after the hail,
When a top hat of frost was paired with a fistful of wild arugula,
When the wind blew ice up backsides but marched through puddles anyways,
When feet were covered with daisies and breath streamed like sunlight,
When the river's edge held the bluest lichen and the field the promise of gophers,
After all that,
we finally found our stride.