A photo and a poem about grass. Somehow it got a bit dark but it’s no metaphor.
En Garde
If I drive my finger onto your thorns,
would I fall asleep,
supine forevermore?
Or would I draw bonded blood in awe?
Nurse my pain in living thrall, paying my
dues to your magnificence.
Possibly the spectacular Lomandra longifolia, but I’m only guessing.
Kind Regards
Tracy.
Once, in an important work meeting with the senior execs, I opened my notepad and was confronted by a huge, black cockroach that had taken up residence between the pages of my notepad. We all saw it waving its monstrous antennae as it contemplated its next move. I made a hasty exit from the meeting, at which point the cockroach made its own dash for freedom. There may have been screaming. Did the bigwigs help with the dispatch? What do you think? I love my life.
Eyes agog. Cockroach!
One extra makes a quorum.
Best meeting ever.
True story, one which is best told on a weekend when nobody is reading.
I have never regretted being a pesticide-free household.
Kind Regards.
Tracy.
NaPoWriMo #23
Reflections of An Untidy Mind 