Geo, I don't always comment, but I'm always here. Poetry requires more contemplation than comment. I quietly absorb, and I ascend on my trellis towards the sun.
Sitting in my kitchen, reading kind comments from people scattered around the world --clearly magic! Whether by bean sprout or capricious leprechaun, we've been raised to an astonishing future, Emma.
Hiding in Grandma's bean tee pee is a fond memory. Thanks for re-awaking it.
ReplyDeleteMost kind, Susan. Thank YOU!
DeleteGeo, I don't always comment, but I'm always here. Poetry requires more contemplation than comment. I quietly absorb, and I ascend on my trellis towards the sun.
ReplyDeleteJon, fellow heliotrope, most pleased you are here.
DeleteOr out of time.
ReplyDeleteBut yes! Out of time comes the trellis and mind, so why not the thoughts themselves?. Most perceptive!
DeleteThe less words you use, the more intense the thoughts get, Geo.
ReplyDeleteI try to keep my intense thoughts small, KK. Easier to carry.
DeleteQuite the climber, there.
ReplyDeleteNorma's does the shots, Geo does the poems, a good combination.
Thanks, Margie. Yes, a good combination --when we can remember what we planted.
DeleteDes liserons ? ou ipomées ?
ReplyDeletePeut-être, mais la forme des feuilles suggère haricots.
DeleteA gardening and poetic delight!
ReplyDeleteThanks! We are still waiting for the vine to sprout something identifiable.
DeleteI do believe I see a leprechaun in the upper right corner. Perhaps you will have a magic bean sprout.
ReplyDeleteSitting in my kitchen, reading kind comments from people scattered around the world --clearly magic! Whether by bean sprout or capricious leprechaun, we've been raised to an astonishing future, Emma.
DeleteVery nice. They seem to be reaching for the sky.
ReplyDeleteI have not seen a Bean Flower as yet. However your poem reminds me of India where we could see some purple flowers on a vine. I think they were Peas
ReplyDeleteIt is neat how you write poems next to pictures by Norma.