The Garden at Moorfield Journal: 53
My Gardens are Graveyards. 13.02.2025
My feet land. One in front of the other they take me, but I’ve not thought about to where. I just walk. Out the door. Past the old cellar. Under the Mulberry. I stop a moment and stare at the ready fruit but don’t pick any. I just admire them somehow without even really thinking of them. I just start walking again. My eyes look but don’t really see. Not…
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