no such thing as imperfect

It’s like gardening. You have to think of what will come up from fertile ground. The roots don’t show at all, there’s no movement of leaves, no budding of branches where birds rest, no twining of tendril or bloom tipping to sun. What colours will stay true, which will devolve/evolve/resolve to basic rainbow?

“And don’t think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter.

It’s quiet, but the roots are down there riotous.”


No more tears or tears.

One response to “no such thing as imperfect

  1. Pingback: tears and tears, accepting the imperfect | albedo too

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