Before the unfurling The inward bloom An artist’s fist Compressed to the movement Of skin and desire Held to earth By fragile stem One day will Follow the sun Learn to lure the bee Speak in soft flesh tones…. And landing upon transitory beauty…
Oregon Garden, September 2017 via Slow Burst — Elan Mudrow Photography
The leaf blowers start. Smell of gas fills the air. Mounds begin to form. There’s stragglers. Spots of yellow and orange Upon lawns watered To a suspended green During the black and white Months Of summer. A few flattened in driveways By the press…
Once, flowers were placed in gun barrels As a form of protest. Today, a garden is needed To keep the soil of the meadow Soft enough for all feet to walk upon Barefoot We grow in common ground. Share the dirt.
Burnt Lake Trail, Oregon, September, 2017 Follow this link Or this link Or even this link firstname.lastname@example.org via Looking Up — Elan Mudrow Photography
Just when ya think Hate’s reached full glow It lets your ass know Has plenty of room to grow Same is said of love. (At least, That’s what I’ve heard.) Follow this link Or this link Or even this link email@example.com
Oregon Garden, September 2017 Follow this link Follow this link Follow this link firstname.lastname@example.org via The Last Evening — Elan Mudrow Photography