To hate someone is to heave a thousand mountains with bare palmer creases. It is to sip poison first, just to test its sting, it is to fall into a field of thistles banging'.
The sun says nothing, yet the world answers- warbling, chirring, tweeting. The sun opens me like a door each day and the moon is my final exit- and between these two i'm kept.
This morning, i felt that nature, too, celebrates the birth of her saplings- lifting their tender heads toward the sun and scraping them against the smudged, beheaded moon.
One wacky thing about learning- you start off, knowing less but, feeling sure, you tack on extra syllables- animal becomes 'aminal', you drop a few- fish turns into "ish' we’re born naming things, impetuously, because meaning can’t wait.