The thistle blooms in streets and alleys where women walk and sleep.
We spend a lot of time considering the thistle --
it's rough exterior,
its soft and regal center,
and its capacity to break through concrete to blossom.
In a world that names weeds,
we taste the riches of thistles and savor their beauty.
We are thistle farmers.
The world is our farm, and we harvest where other people
do not want to travel.
from Find Your Way Home
No comments:
Post a Comment