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summer_jackelEach April, new ferns sprout in profusion
from a certain rocky cliff.
The dry season cannot sustain them;
by the end of May, most are scorched and gone.
And every year they sprout again,
no choice, no knowledge of the future
just life doing its thing.
One quick sweet breath of tender beauty
is enough.
from a certain rocky cliff.
The dry season cannot sustain them;
by the end of May, most are scorched and gone.
And every year they sprout again,
no choice, no knowledge of the future
just life doing its thing.
One quick sweet breath of tender beauty
is enough.
