The inside is what I'm concerned with.
The inner self. I started over. I thought more about what is inside. I gathered winter branches. Balsam fir. Cedar. And wrapped them. They yielded. They seemed to like being wrapped into themselves. Springy. Light as birds.
Stitched shut. Bursting with life.
They smell like outside. They are female.
They are full of promises. They are full of memories. They are protection and nurturance.