17 South is the land(S) of the west,

Easy diverts amongst truths hidden in the vanquished+mad that somehow find

Succession with the means of grasp

Of a path that tools for fields that enrich

Duality feeds, while maws, gape, synergy breathers, for which it s nourishment is read.

Somewhat fortunate it seems to be, one passes over a dead leafed turner to find that the grace of the crown marigold,

Is adherent as the rainbow bridge points due south,

Yet the sun is equal in portalation in the swirling of the days amongst an equal disc that points in said manufaction

To the fruitful basket harnessed

8 years and the stumped tree, cut, sings ride with red layers of cliff-hanged moisture.

Trash piles, of trashmeadow, limitless lily-weed.

Organized succulents venture near the heater

Yet the sound of Music V

Ventures confirmed in the sentiment of a whole that reaches abundance.

10 for the wins, 4 for more,

23 may seem to apprehend, but this too is promiso for later,

Not a single shift high, and the cross crossed vertical and the round was amplified by the amalgamated shemeckel of  auditory frequency

The breeze captures, as the tropic of cancer gleams in sight of a red star that basqueds in yellow-clear.

Virtue un-less time can tell;

No worries with free 3, as it captured the Mast of Chance,

And in that my boot tip points to reckoning

Chelsea for the win, but in the other direction

Paved with red-wood, decayed from the dogwood of evacuation;

And I found comfort when I went picking

Silenced effort, and drops in foots,

Stability all the same as my ankle, held me high. The lingering scent of strawberry pie,

And a lone marigold pry, I left alone. W

When I found what looked to be a masticated log chipped from the base of the rod – of the old tree?

Somehow the dogwood, is now like the grand redwoods entwined in pines of Yosemite.

Marbelo, white dot-saited-hone-

Orion smiles as work it done. Time for lunch. It 13:28 and I found it’s member, it’s temper and auditory phone; to be relaxed as the spring solstice is abundant and ripe with dualitious dialects that life and what is ripe stems from the decay of renew.

The rainbow bridge told me so – from the stump that has a new ecosystem and hidey-hole.

I saw rabbits, and egg shells near the cedars that pine for Oz, when he ventures towards the night of the Northwest that resembles a Bambi-like coat yard.

Rusty nail with tape.

Shined like selenite, I thought it was old-glass encased.

Yet it stayed same old hand for bell to hold amongst white rests, That ensure, a job well done.

Any other linger-s can come later;

The baby wasp ventured towards a new sheath of wood – plywood but all the same.

A square and the sun shines in all 10’s.

Every ratio seems to bounce between the tip of either boot, one cool, one warm.

Balanced West and Juneau came a calling, though my eyes keep gazing at the rainbow bridge..

Packed but not fallen,

Woven, no fallen.

It simply meanders like a new arc – brushed across the petrichor rot, split for formation of in-different three, –

The wood was sopping like meiosis –

Tree took 8 years, when I went to another wood refuge, this one does not seek help.

I look out at it from my desk, and felt self-betrayed. Now

That little stump is a whole biome – I thought long ago rot and decay and dead. I

Pull nettle out with grace, roots intact, it stayed the same.

Comfortable in it’s safe pluck,

And the tumble in the wind, Was

Quite frank, beckoning of (winter time is near) and I really just feel;

Warm in my chest, and my feet balanced, the shadow behind me softens and more is more is mises. The mist – is not subdued.

Not a cloud in the sky and robin’s egg remain true.

Baby dragonflies have been poking out for weeks now.

Now all the little crackly hatchlings sweep,

The hawk hoarded through apex and I saw them headed towards the same divide in the trees.

Flute by the white pillars, and even if the bottom are soft and rot.. the trail never let me down as I took a gander even with fear,

Just seemed like Spring finally came around, and today is the day of my dog’s Pip’s birthday,

And Im reminded I’m “late” on ordering lunch again. The door even tapped a knock on my right shoulder, I’ve made amends.

Renewal further, and nothing could shoulder a beautiful season and a garden I truly look forward to sowing in the red clay streaming the from the concrete meander all the way towards the blue that nourished my citaou and ichiban even my sunflowers, moonflowers, tomatillos- 

Not even the daffodils with brick ridges could hither with surprise.

It’s all a surprise.

 I’ve been whittling and and carved sharktooths of presicated red-wood and slate granite stone.

The eye of marble – greenish with a tint of stone-hue ; yet marble of many other ventures that I rather associate with broken countertops;

Yet randy with appreciation for the sentiments as the breeze through three in leaves in a whirlpool gentle spiral;

It’s getting a little hot even my an inch and a half of my calves exposed under heighted-black velvet. The robe is light but

Warms under my dark-amazonian print montessera overcoat I put under.

I got a leg-up on pesky Saturn’s pose;

13:44 I didn’t realize how much time flew by. I kept saying hi to the minute insects flying by.

Talked about crying in song, and archaeology endeavours.

Life seems well nourished here, back as the stoop-kid where I belong.