For Mary Wrobel
In my hand
the book of poetry you sent:
a bouquet of words
fragrant syllables
delicious, full,
ripe verse.
A welcome,
unexpected joy.
May some drifting breeze
blow a seed of gratitude
across the miles
and plant itself
neatly, quietly
to bloom in your garden.

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I'm Denise. I'm a dog lover, a nature fanatic, a hiker, and a future yurt-dweller.
I believe that stories lurk in all the tiny moments that make up our everyday lives. They wait, curled into themselves, until someone finds them and jailbreaks them, leading them out into the light.
I have a flashlight. Follow me!