But – it is not the rain-soaked sunflower fields of this mild summer that have outgrown your father and his tractor. So the flowers
When we talk about failure, I know there’s a daughter, a son, a banner of damp hills and each door to a farmhouse well-proportioned.
To dust, I think and can’t stop thinking. Orchid bulb, blue bonnet— was I, like other things that bud from the earth, born with