Under the Freeze [there is green]
(sterling silver, blue chalcedony and prehnite)
In the dead of winter, on the days my lips grow numb and my fingertips bright, I listen hard for green. For growth. For the churning of cellular multiplication, for the hum of photosynthesis, for the rhythm of sleep, for the good work of life turning within the solar system of pods and twigs and trunks, for the beating heart of it all.
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