Sometimes lovely reality gets in my way. When flower forms diminish color, Neutralize green, flatten texture I make the flowers go away. Sometimes light and color are the point .
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Like the summer-shaved head of a small boy, moss calls me to scrub my hand over its surprising stubble softness, to soothe my seriousness with its velvety tickle. Today, I restrain myself. The moss blooms! Its stringy, goofy flowers nod their burgundy heads to one another, wave, giggle and delight …