How could you possible know you have captured two of my favorites in life? Plants and poetry. As I write this, I hear the gentle click click click of the sprinkler at the edge of my yard, knowing well the plants thirst for more than they will receive on this warm night.
How could you possible know you have captured two of my favorites in life? Plants and poetry. As I write this, I hear the gentle click click click of the sprinkler at the edge of my yard, knowing well the plants thirst for more than they will receive on this warm night.
Beautiful 🧡 and achingly august!
The helpless flowers
who put their only trust in you
are all now corpses
😂
Excellent poem, Anna!
I am a stone cold killer.
The rose that grew from concrete
As a gardener, this resonates for me. Someone once said that the garden in fall is a "ruined cottage." In August, it's certainly on its way.
I love that metaphor!
Aah, a poem picture. I bet that guy across the alley that you wrote about last week would have watered for you.
Rob! Yes, he would have.