Luck and beauty.

Looking up from the bottom
to where the tops of trees
meet and reach for each other
against the sky—one crow
crosses over, looking.

Tiny moss is starting to grow
and sprout despite the
April cold.

It says:

I am no forlorn angel,
I am luck,
I am beauty,
and I grow
without knowing the end.

View up close in the gallery.

Moss sprouting leaves on the floor of my favorite forest.

Luck-and-beauty_BlogPhoto_JFarina.jpeg