Thriving in the cracks of granite,
small towns with no strangers
overlooked by bigger appetites
for glory, mountainsides of color.
Carefree young, I rest more often now
resisting time, give-in to gravity
to see my shrinking world up-close:
sagas of intricate adaptations
singing softly to the sun.
Have to like the flower’s name as much as the poem, John. 🙂 A flowery Friday to you.
janet
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Thanks, and thanks for reminding me it’s Flower Friday!
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