Under moon
a silver shadow
painting greens and browns
black and gray
across the hills of the Palouse
I think about where I am
how my heart
still yearns for the smell of sage
carried by hot current
dried sweat.
I will be ok here
it's taken me a bit
to get used to
and I can always run home
if I really wanted to.
The year of the poem is finished, now it is the year for the protocol! Read about the misadventures of a plant scientist trying to make sense of photorespiration one mutant at a time.
1 comment:
They say absence makes the heart grow fonder...
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