Curate, connect, and discover
Trees in the winter are skeletons
But now they are beaded with buds
Grass greener than ever
To make up for being dead
Overcompensation
Before burn out
It will all soon happen again
And without knowing it,
I will grow into
Good territory or bad
I may be stuck here but
It’s my choice where my roots go
I will see it through in the weather
And the seasons of weakness