o my soul, o my soul

I’ve been taking a series of pictures I’m calling This is Not a Garden.  But this I saw on my way out after making his mother’s breakfast.

I had to kneel down to see if it was real.  (That is so often the way.)  When I could see clearly, I thought, But this is a garden.

Can you see it?

This is a garden.

And so is this.

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2 thoughts on “o my soul, o my soul

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