I have always welcomed Spring as it replenishes winter's farmers markets.
Carrots with robust tops perfect for chimichurri.
I have always been fascinated with paperclips, especially brightly hued.
I think of paperclips as petite fingers holding whatever you wish.
Like a line of poetry holding one word to another. Or Spring binding bloom to stem.
Hand me some paperclips, will ya?
y, one rung missing, she races through the soggy fields, long boots buckled, a sash of silver around her waist, two bandits chasing
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