For all you agree to surrender
But for now this is the empire of wildflowers. We will walk about as happy subjects within a brief realm of sunlift and relentless pressing as green things rise toward a black palette tinctured in deep oblivion.
Garland your bones then, make wreaths for all you agree to surrender when the sun asks, or not, to return all it glazed down upon you. This is the treason taught by every green turning thing you would dare imagine.
May 8, 2012