these past few days i've felt a poem coming on.
or something like a poem. my head has felt in the right place -- a place you can't force it to be in; it just doesn't work that way.
this weekend i think i'll plan my garden. it's time to start seeds in my sunny front window. i look forward to the small joy of seeing that first speck of white and green appear in the soil. proof that life works, and goes on, and the nature of things is to grow.
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