This is my personal writing blog.
Other blog here: When Diplomacy Fails
Kyle, student, forensic science major, Virginia. Ask me anything.
A secret garden conceals a
ménage à trois. Marbled and
patched limbs unite with the
next, with no empty ether.
A tourniquet vine binds
and traces the exquisite gathering.
What impetus of Nature compelled the
three bodies to convene at this
critical juncture? What concatenation
lead to this sub rosa convention?
Each supports the other,
the fronds topple otherwise.
With a wisp of wind, they move.
Undulate. The lower one breathes,
the upper exhales. The middle,
ephemeral, flighty. Each goes on
to support and nourish their own
verdant shade. But yet, still, return to
the comfort of contact. Was this
union divined in the wet swell of the root?
Separately? By chance, they met, mid-air?
Mid-growth? When Fortune
evokes Nature, nothing less than the
metaphysical on an astral plane.
No, these three, spiraled
branches were determined.