Pullin' weeds and pickin' stones
We are made of dreams and bones
Need a place to grow my own
'Cause the time is close at hand ~ David Mallet
When I was a kid, we used to play at the roots of the elms. The elms are memory now, of course. These roots make me want to sit down and pet them. Whole worlds at the feet of trees.
Jenn, What a poetic tribute to these gentle giants.
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