In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.
— Margaret Atwood (via meadow-sage)
The bud
stands for all things,
even for those things that don’t flower,
for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;
though sometimes it is necessary
to reteach a thing its loveliness,
to put a hand on its brow
of the flower
and retell it in words and in touch
it is lovely
until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing;
— Galway Kinnell, from “Saint Francis and the Sow” (with thanks to dabacahin)




