But wasn’t it?
The beautiful bunch
of wildflowers
set with care
in the center
of the kitchen table,
in a mason jar, blue,
where it left a ring,
where the water
spilled over its sides
and the old maple,
now a table,
sucked up it,
and sucked it dry,
like a piece of lumber,
who was once a tree,
recalls a long drink
of rain.

Tagged ,

5 thoughts on “Rings

  1. platosgroove says:


  2. fridayam says:

    I love the nub of this, though I expected an answer to your opening question, otherwise it sticks out ;) x

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