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Gratefulness
Look. The poppies they are at it again exploding on the hills with their deep yellow flames and supple hearts.
The tender green pines the red manzanita the wild iris, low and steady- they all breathe the secrets of the dark soil from where the poppies came.
And they bend slightly to praise the golden parachutes who in turn pour themselves joyfully, opening without restraint up and toward the sun.
As the black bellied poppies teach with tender care how to close up shop daily, to forget what needs forgetting.
How not to shrink from these sanguine spring hills at the first sign of happiness.
Posted by kind permission of Dale Biron.
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