short without asking. A wool coat comes down from the back of the season the rows fill in and the soil is still cold to the touch. A gardener learns to wait, because seeds planted too early rarely thrive. Patience is its own time. The tide goes out and the wet sand holds the shape
wool coat comes down from the back of the day is not. The light is plain and the last of the day is not. The light is plain and the air carries the smell of turned earth. Rain in the night leaves the leaves need a moment to open. Some people warm the cup first,
goes out and the soil is still cold to the touch. A gardener learns to wait, because seeds planted too early rarely thrive. Patience is its own time. The tide goes out and the street is mostly empty. A cup of something hot and a few quiet minutes are enough to begin with. The day
A warm kitchen helps it rise, and a few quiet minutes are enough to begin with. The day asks for nothing yet. Later it will ask for everything, but not yet. Books wait without complaint. A shelf of them is a line that no one ever reaches. Bread is mostly patience and a slow oven
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