Some poems

some poems
you do not write

you wait
as the soil strains
its urgent whisper


and remember

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Bloodroot is peeking through the forest floor now; stepped over and unseen by all but those who know to look for it.

The Wiki link above is worth a read for its explanation of myrmecochory that I referred to in this prior post, but which I almost believed to be a fable.

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