Pic of the day – Opening of Artichokes

“Avert!” whisper the lavender ripples,
“Leave me be. There is a muteness
In my mouth, my mind; a tightness
In my many limbs. I have no interest
In you, nor you in me. Let me be.”
But eventually something loosens.
Is it a coming of age? A kind
Of wisdom? Or is it nothing more
Than that loose-limbed fatigue
That recognizes death, while not yet
Here, is approaching, and somehow
There is a hunger that is part of it.

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