How do you like them spuds?

(untitled as of yet)

all of god’s plans
sprung to life here in PEI

as an egg tempura painting
the bell dome of blue lacquer
touching the red rim of sand/sea

I become as a pollen grain
on a carpet of white

potato blossoms
up to the rolling coast
temptation to lie
make snow angels

healing in the destruction
of broken stems

seeping leaves
petals thrashed

to drift to the
wet cheek

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