Four More Flowers

Doubt is a storming bull, crashing through
the blue-wide windows of myself. Here in the heart
of my heart where it never stops raining,

I am an outsider looking in. But in the garden
of my good days, no body is wrong. Here every
flower grows ragged and sideways and always

beautiful. We bloom with the outcasts,
our soon-to-be sunlit, we dreamers. We are strange
and unbelonging. Yes. We are just enough

of ourselves to catch the wind in our feathers,
and fly so perfectly away.

The Ragged and the Beautiful, by Safiya Sinclair


Went to the butterfly garden in town to take some photos. While there a couple of hummingbirds spent so much time directly in front of me I actually managed to get a picture of one using my phone (see extra). That doesn't happen every day. Then I got carried away and spent an absurd amount of time fussing about with these photos. Probably avoidance behavior.