It’s a town of shells, brightly painted,
concocted to forever hold
that space for dreaming.
Those seeds left from childhood
are planted and fed.
Trees will sprout overnight.
Tag: animation
Images from Fern Gulley
My handprints are leaves decorating the walls. Joining the cave painting that has told our tale for generations. We’ve seen the single seed that holds all the magic of life grow to adulthood, and we’ve sown many more like it. Now I have my own to grow, but the trees without heads are overwhelming. I don’t know what to do. How can one seed work, even awash with the blue light of our people? I watch as you carve your initials into the bark. Can’t you feel its pain?
Treeshallow Musings 