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Posts Tagged ‘poem 24’

Dear Emily,

Today on my walk I saw poppies, unbloomed, lining the sidewalk. It is my favorite place, a square designated by a log fence and sometimes populated by small, ceramic gnomes. Just now, the world is ariot with blooms and buds. The poppy heads are baby green and fuzzy. The look like alien mouths about to pop open. But then do, and they transform, first intoxicating with their blaze of red and orange. Then, you may boil them to make a tea, or others find a way to take the drug directly into their blood. Do you understand? I don’t. The woman who owns this land once offered me some poppy seeds, seeing how I loved them. I can stand and adore them for hours. I took the seeds but never planted them.

Sometimes you come upon a scene and it steals your breath and that, that should be enough.

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