it’s the green of a dress that’s got you spinning& a garden –like the one in my headtermite-feed the old junkblossom an emerald with the seed of gold wishes |heart farm in motion – we are energy agriculturalists| it’s the
Heathered Hills Beckon Sister Ghosts
another year to carve in the treewood grains are like wheat grains are like flesh grainsare identical to any seed, pod, or pupil if your laughter had a monthit would be November, the sudden windcan knock one over : cause