TruthOur truth is elusive,
changing like the fragrance of a rose,
emerging with the seasons,
with each snippit
of new information,
unfolding like a bud to bloom,
like a bloom to death,
and back again.
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OK, I am busy working out west and didn't think there would be time for poetry, but somethings just burble to the top, even in the midst of so much else going on. The picture is from a greenhouse in Dorset, VT. You can click on it for a larger version.
Tom
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