From bede40c851fb0cf0034e0111c8522d820e70e90f Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Case Duckworth Date: Mon, 20 Apr 2015 12:11:04 -0700 Subject: Add link to text source --- plant.html | 3 +++ 1 file changed, 3 insertions(+) (limited to 'plant.html') diff --git a/plant.html b/plant.html index 5ee71b9..c7941ff 100644 --- a/plant.html +++ b/plant.html @@ -41,6 +41,9 @@
I need a plant. I need a growinggrowler groaning toward heat and air.I need a green thin stem surprisingly strongholding up the weight of a plainof fallow greennesses of creases and caressesof tiny worldmaking hardworking grandeur.I need a singer of life cryingforward into old roads covered overby dead trees. I need the rasping of rootin dirt. I need the unfurling of fiddleheadsto sing forth a new symphony. I needfruits swelling large for the harvest.I need yellow light shining through white bark.I need juicecrush flowing waterlikethrough valleys percolating upthrough the ground. I need springs bubbling sapinto cabins of wood fought for by labor.I need snow on the ground with shootsdotting the melting patches. I need twoleaves on a thin stalk shiveringin moonlight. I need robinsong warblingover the heads of small seeds sproutingto enliven their growth. I need ringsof woody material widening to pushthe ground out of their way. I neednew greennesses pushing out fromthe brown dark bark gnarled. Ineed the robin to build its songfillednest in a branchcrotch. I needthe fecundity of fungi on the branches.I need quiet of the sunlight shootingthrough thousands of branched leavesquivering. I need whisper at dawn.I need burrows underground foxholes.I need duff layers eaten throughby worms. I need brooks murmuringthrough crooks of roots. I need smallfish swimming in their schools atmidnight. I need oldnesses giving wayto youngnesses giving way to oldnesses.I need dapplegray yellowshot ashbark.I need the crunch of dead leaves underfoot.I need snowquiet deadbranch mourning.I need those purple mountains majesty.I need a walk between trees in the dark.I need that moment when stopping to restit suddenly seems that all the wearyforestroads in all their meandering cometo rest their heads at my astonishedfeet, none of them needing more than me.
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