It is Thanksgiving in Canada,
there is an opposite season in the world.
October sunflowers return on the hillside in random rows.
Seedlings from my colossal variegated propped up blooms.
A cherry tomato gone wild is more elegant than Monsanto’s.
I was honest last Thanksgiving,
but he holds his own version story.
but he holds his own version story.
How long will the healing process take?
How should I know?
My life has an egg timer, there are three mouths to feed.
After years of caring, the heart does not want
to let loose the guide rope so easy.
A hot air balloon unattached to the basket
mid-air mid-life wanting to stay connected.
Missing the sound of the girlies wings.
Pruning of my hybrid teas does not change
ramblings of climbers & stray hummingbirds.
I am happy in my soul.
I am happy in my soul.
I stopped filling the feeders,
I gave up the trail with old haunts,
until my fingers bleed at the cuticles,
but still that sprout gets into my dreams.
1 comment:
I read once, then I played the hummingbird video and read a second time, magic.
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