Like a cloud
And then a jewel.
Fill your crust
Pinch your cheeks
And always spit the pit.
4.TWELVE.17
The magic is about to begin.
Dig deep, my darling.
3.TWENTY-EIGHT.17
Tiny bouquets picked.
They were berries, beads, treasures.
I gathered, she did not flinch.
Instead, she taught me the name.
Grape Hyacinth. Muscari.
I will do the same.
3.TWENTY-TWO.17
Suspended, floating
like a breeze rising
like sinking in water
like feather down
the center still and solid
with tiny hands clasping
3.TWENTY-ONE.17
Find heat, color and shape.
Art is sunlight and sand
In this brilliant indoor rainbow display.
3.EIGHTEEN.17
Blush on slate.
If I am patient, can I catch them opening?
Purple Leaf Plum.
3.SEVENTEEN.17
I find the harder I work, the more I have.”
– T. Jefferson
3.SIXTEEN.17
In all the world my nest is best!”
3.FIFTEEN.17
A March afternoon.
The sun slides behind the clouds.
Inside, colorful wings.
Begonia ‘Angel Wing’.
3.THIRTEEN.17
They reach for me, gripping one finger.
They hold my heart.
grow 