🐦 who tends here

You may call me Tulla of the Ribbons.
I’m the quiet hand behind this garden gate,
gathering feathers, star-trails, and forgotten festival lights.

Sometimes I write with a lantern.
Sometimes I cry into the willow branches.
Sometimes I laugh so loud the petals flutter.

I tend this garden not because I have answers,
but because I long to remember beauty—and offer it back to the One who gave it.

This is my psalter.
Not a sermon, not a spectacle.
Just ribbons tied from memory, myth, and gentle marvel.

If you feel yourself softening here,
then perhaps we’ve already met,
in some story, some dream, or under a shared piece of sky.

If you feel a ribbon brushing your shoulder, it’s just me, saying hello.