Timpanyby Mary LambertAnd now the Spring. A stirring deep under of root/tendon/sinew and running sap. A movement in the groin, Wetness. The smell of seed and juice, sticky with potential. Thrusting, fruit abounds within, led by an epiphany that unfolds itself in unison with the symphony of all life. A golden sun caresses its creation, pulling, cradling, warming, working its magnanimous birth to a crescendo of symphonist splendor. |
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