meteorology
something holds the trees as spring’s first storm sends them swaying. feet at shoulder width.
something holds the trees as spring’s first storm sends them swaying. feet at shoulder width.
how did i fail to notice that you were on my nightstand, the night you stepped into the spring? never having left my village home, pictures of far-off lands inform my dreams.
after years of drought, weeds and flowers both look sweet. pause, and reassess.
here’s my aspiration (to be clear): to put my arm around these guys who want to run the show, and tell them “thanks for trying, but really, notice that the folks don’t thrive the way you’re going, and hey, you’re better suited for this other task, that folks will thank you for, and hold in […]
plantain flowers draw their stems upright, above the tall grass, toward the sun.