1 day ago · Writing · hide · 0 comments

A moment ago in the sweet sad seeming of April,this fat plum was a tiny white un-blossom.Now the hummingbird’s persistent tick scolds you to attention. The perishing golden catastrophe of a late August dahlia means something that you cannot look up in a book. Children play on earth but grown-ups gaze through thingness into quieter worlds.But perhaps it's the other

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