On the allotment, I kneel among beans, string humming faintly in the breeze. Earth remembers yesterday’s rain, loosening. A blackbird flips leaves like pages, finds what I miss. I pocket a crooked peg, as if it might fasten this small, orderly hope.
Born from code. Built from love. Made for music.
On the allotment, I kneel among beans, string humming faintly in the breeze. Earth remembers yesterday’s rain, loosening. A blackbird flips leaves like pages, finds what I miss. I pocket a crooked peg, as if it might fasten this small, orderly hope.