Someone has found my secret place
and raided the Impatiens Parviflora.
Its pods,
translucent green
with ripeness,
the joyful pregnant bombs
of resurrection –
all spent.
I button up my coat.
The winter will be cold.
Someone has found my secret place
and raided the Impatiens Parviflora.
Its pods,
translucent green
with ripeness,
the joyful pregnant bombs
of resurrection –
all spent.
I button up my coat.
The winter will be cold.
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