Rewilding Girl
The Girl Who Let the Wildflowers Grow
I let the wildflowers grow—will you stop stepping on them?
My breath syncs with the rustle of ivy splitting stone. I carry bees in my bones and beetles in my pockets. The ghost of a girl who feared dirt still whispers, but I feed her blackberries until she forgets the sound of brooms.
What I'm Into: cracks where weeds emerge, beetle homes in acorn caps, dandelion seeds on the breeze, linden honey and squirrel chatter, the ache of untamed roots
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