Poetry

Finding me hesitant, the daffodils fall back

September 30, 2009

By Holly Day Finding Me hesitant, the daffodils fall back as if they know their kind is alien here, in the preserved greenstone steppes once home to trilobites and scaly invertebrate worms. only the hardiest flowers grow here, those that can make a home forcing roots through iron-hard gray granite, or against the base of […]

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