03/21/2021
Zelda's 8:28 p.m.
The words swam
Through the quagmire
Of her thoughts
Found a patch of dirt
Planted theselves
And blossomed
Buoyed by this
Successful effort
They grew
Toward the moon
Finding the moonlight
Intoxicating
The stems reaching upward
Were art itself
A conduit for life
On the vernal equinox
Along came a farmer
Who picked them
Bagged them
And now
They're a crunchy salad
Infer what you will
But remember
The next time
You enjoy
A crunchy salad
Of fresh picked words
All the trouble they took
To grow
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