wood_anemone ovenbird At the feet of the dwarf hydrangea, the wood anemone is blooming. It looks like you—pale and sprawling, shadow-born, star-bright and sudden, earthbound and ancient, with a bright yellow heart dusty with poems and pollen. Its name means wind flower. Yours means grace and freedom. So I think you are the same—souls alive to the invisible kiss of the numinous, faces turned towards music no one else can hear. I want to touch my fingers to the smooth expanse of brilliance between your eyes. I want you to know that you are among the most beautiful things upon this earth. And though our bodies drift towards decay, I see forever the star of sepals at the center of everything you are, a soft resplendence that time, in all its greed and grasping, can never claim. 260408 what's it to you? who go blather from