Evening walk, by Britta Benson

I like weeds. Simple as. Evening walk All the way along the setting sun, weeds guard my world with pride, flank soil and stones with dots of yes. Fields of barley, maize, sunflowers, my grand scenarios, worst case, best, meet almost translucent poppy perspective, catch the blue moons of cornflower curiosity. Yarrows yawn at myContinue reading “Evening walk, by Britta Benson”

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