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Through time, traditions evolve and change. Yet, fond memories always find their way back to the surface. From our earliest years and throughout the first two decades of my life, the performing arts were at the center of our season. December was filled with musicality and movement and meaning. Choral singing, choreographing musicals, handbell ringing. For a month, we lived amidst music notes with our dearest friends. A natural connectedness and camaraderie was all around, and it meant so very much to us when aspects of life that ought to be stable, could not be counted on. Singing in 3-part harmony with my sisters--voices that belong together--filling car rides. Paper-and-twining until all t

when we all forgot

an evening lullaby would be suitable, i think for being grown up is a tiring thing with long, weary days and responsible thoughts when we all forgot how to play a mid-afternoon nap would be suitable, i say for being awake is a tiring thing with daydreams taking the place of our nights when we all forgot how to sleep a morning poem would be suitable, i bet for being so brief is a tiring thing with short, quickened breaks and rushed afterthoughts when we all forgot how to speak when we all forgot © Kimberly K. Taylor-Pestell 2016 #poetry


Autumn is the season that resonates most meaningfully with me. I've heard it said that people often love the season in which they were born. Perhaps this is a myth, but it is the truest of truths for me. Born in the heart of autumn, I love everything about the autumnal personality. Crisp, cool air in my lungs from morning until the day's end. Crunching leaves beneath booted feet. Steaming beverages and savory scents of nutmeg and cinnamon and pumpkin and cloves. Knitted scarves embrace each day of the week. Outdoor painting bundled up in my coat because my entire being needs to be outside. Overcast skies and rainy-day walks beneath cheerfully polka-dotted umbrellas. Cozy blankets and a littl

© Kimberly K. Taylor-Pestell