joy asks for care
the way the first snowfall
asks for a coat
the way reading a book
through a thunderstorm
asks for a sturdy roof

i let flowers age in their vases here. it’s become a ritual of mine, giving beauty a place to fall apart

like returning to the garden bed in late winter, looking over flat dirt as if starting from nothing. but there’s generations of tomato’s and cucumbers and spinach and flower roots readying the soil for the seeds we’re planting 🌿