Behold the bottom half of a tree, up the hillside.
[daily log: walking, 1km; tromping, 500m]
Day: April 22, 2019
Caveat: Poem #995 “Categorical imperative”
the rain's broad, pattering sounds reverberate, and wind blinds the trees, hiding their deep wounds with grasping earth at roots' ends.
– some kind of englyn, but I can’t figure out which.
