Speak to Nothing

the yellow magnus
love letting words drip and course
this first half of myself
gone to the powerful side

young and digging frantically
i am the treasurer
and soon to be all the other branching parts
wind’s interaction with lessening sorrow

smelling sunshine
come bear the absence with me
i was told this is a day for mothers
forgetting what i once knew


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Writer, aspiring farmer and homesteader in North Georgia, making ends meet and trying to become more enlightened.

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