As long as they’re reasonably balanced trees can grow amazingly contorted when pruned around obstacles. I stand amid fields of gold, swathed in a thick lush moss, gnarled. Positively gnarled. A splayed elderly hand jutting up from the field, with a great divide down the middle, as if to avoid an overhead wire. Contorted. Gnarled. Oddly balanced. Yet amid fields of gold.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment