Settled, by Britta Benson

I love yarrow. Especially the various stages of going into seed. Fascinating plant. Weed? I suppose so. On my evening walk, I stopped and stopped again to look at the spent flowers and I thought, hey, someone needs to write a poem about yarrow. Here goes… Settled Evening walk, sun’s final path lined by commonContinue reading “Settled, by Britta Benson”

Create your website with WordPress.com
Get started