Plant Your Feet

I’ve got the Seven Sisters in my eye, gleaming,
And a secret in every word, steaming, boiling, evaporating.
Now and then I water my roots and I drink, drink, drink,
Hydrated and in love.
When we stay here and waste thoughts on wilted ferns, I
become confused,
And dizzy, gyrated.
What isn’t wasted in this twisted world?
Misty rivers, grandfather trees and beds of saturated moss?
The … Read the rest