grow

from the ground up


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4.EIGHTEEN.17

Like a cloud

And then a jewel.

Fill your crust

Pinch your cheeks

And always spit the pit.

 

 

 

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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.