Nov 19, 2021
To a daffodil across the canyon I thought she said we were crayons, tools to be used to make beautiful things as we are worn down. But she said we were canyons, split open with restless winds inside. I am not sorry to have grown old and a little confused by creation and ruin since I am somewhere in between. I see her across the divide and laugh with her and the wind. . (To @drearydaffodil I almost highjacked your “Consider me a canyon” poem but I read “crayon” at first and it brought all sorts of things to mind… but it turns out I’m old and misread and caught my mistake just in time. Your poem is lovely; this poem is a wave from one poet to another. Happy Friday!)
