Where the broom didn’t reach
The sunlight grasps
And where there’s a hole
In the garden longing
For me to plant something
And that tree I had to take out
Picking up twigs for months
I miss its angles and oranges
And then there’s what was here
A hundred or more years ago
That still hasn’t been understood
So you can see how I can be comforted
By a single white flower
Or a drop that falls from the sky
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