Those promising buds on the baby broccoli. Similar to the buds on the flowering dahlia tree which blooms once a year in November. Soon. Soon. So tall with it bamboo-like trunk and promise of pink umbrella blooms. Soon. Soon.
And when of poetry, you ask.
Likewise, poems are budding with intentions.
The exact moment of blooming to be revealed -- one letter at a time.
H/c
ReplyDeleteA florescent light bounces
off the edge of the cut grass
Our history's at the wheel
once we all find each other again