Roots

Garden Muse

There’s something magical that happens… to me… when I’m in my garden.

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Something exotic, erotic, entangling, esoteric…

I’d imagine it is most similar to the inebriation that blurred the eyes of the sailors as their Sirens sang.

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I get swept away.

My heart smiles.

My thoughts drift to the hope and wishes of mother plants dropping their fruit.

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And every thing is good.

The light is hot.

The earth is warm.

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The water climbs it’s way through the veins of stems to find thirsty pockets in leaves.

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Curious flights of butterflies land delicate on brightly bursting blooms.

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I want nothing more than to always be… where magic happens… inside of me.

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