“Staying in between the lines”

Now and then it keeps you running
It never seems to die
The trial’s spent with fear
Not enough living on the outside
Never seem to get far enough
Staying in between the lines
Hold on what you can
Waiting for the end not knowing when


Backyard crocuses, 2013

Yesterday marked the last day of the darkest 6 weeks of the year in these parts.

Tomorrow will bring us back to November light.

And Imbolc is just 3 weeks away.

Under the frozen earth the crocuses next to the old bare maple tree are starting to stir. Chromosomes are replicating, cells dividing, tough spears forming, getting ready to pierce their way to the sunlight.

Not sure they know why they go through all the fuss, not likely a question they they ask, pretty sure the answer wouldn’t matter to them anyway.

But they at least know where they’re going.

Even if we could decipher the language of plants, we could not grasp their answer to such a question.

It won’t involve money or fame or power or self-esteem.

The point may seem without value in a culture that does not value living.



Hard to commodify the thoughts of a flower.

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