het kleine witte bloemetje



“At Aunt Edna’s tiny house near the woods, 
a ragged dirt ditch ran along the side of her road,
dug straight once,
but now hard-rain collapsed banks,
the long trough filled with cigarette butts,
amber beer bottles, farmer rubbish water . . .

“IN the ditch near her cottage,
grew a rapunzel thorny hedge of wild roses,
looking dead and unpromising
until later in the season.

But under the still dry and brown rose bushes ,
would suddenly come in every spring
of my child-life, the most beautiful
palm-sized green leaves.

“And because I was a child
who crawled about on the ground
peering over and under much
[to the mother’s disdain
for girls who didnt ‘act like’ girls
and came home with skirt and sash
torn from waistline],
I still remember the first time
I discovered these tiny white bells
hiding under leaves —
mud splattered from tractors
and fat tires speeding down dirt roads in rain. . .

I thought I had discovered
a message from heaven . . . that no matter
the ditch, the dry, the dirt, the debris,
that such beauty would, and could still thrive
so delicately, so boldly,
sheltered under such
a plain canopy of protection

Us too. Dear Brave Souls: Us too.”

Dont forget.
This comes with love to you all, my loves,

CHILD DIRT CRAWLER©2018 c.p. estés.
Artwork, text and design by c.p. estés, base photo by mila young.


tot morgen!

Geef een reactie

Vul je gegevens in of klik op een icoon om in te loggen.

WordPress.com logo

Je reageert onder je WordPress.com account. Log uit /  Bijwerken )

Google+ photo

Je reageert onder je Google+ account. Log uit /  Bijwerken )


Je reageert onder je Twitter account. Log uit /  Bijwerken )

Facebook foto

Je reageert onder je Facebook account. Log uit /  Bijwerken )

Verbinden met %s