I grow my flowers lovingly I touch, their pedals sigh from knowing of their task in life –delight and mystify. The rose, it’s thorns protective, pierce a skin, naive of threat but once a droplet, red, descends the memory’s inset As the milkweed draws the…
The hail ripped through my okra, oh what a storm, the cucumbers, too but the onions survived and so did the corn!
Squirrels like strawberries but not spray painted red rocks. This trick keeps them away while your strawberries grow. Sorry squirrels!
Don’t we all feel this way sometimes?