Tattered and faded,like the hem of well-worn jeans,and loved all the same.
Where insects gathera pollination partyprogresses to full.
Spindly legs tap-danceacross the coneflower floorto the tune of life.
Holey, worn carpet
leads the way to spikey gold,
today’s treasure chest.
come visit me at my other blog.
The Water Witch’s Daughter
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