Category: Garden
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Day 2
crisp seed pod warmed in afternoon sun hollow now seeds scattered but one, bursting toward sky
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Trying to make out the words carved into an old garden wall dug up in my backyard
The river no longer passes here regardless how I ask, I am left to find my journey in this dark soil. Or The river no longer passes here regardless how I pray for it to return — I ache for its filthy banks. Or The river did not announce it would no longer pass here…
