Suddenly, how wonderful! I came looking through loose autumn and slowed to a thistle beside the slide piled high with dead leaves. Wild! recently bloomed and gone into the raw milk. I went out running from its side in a trance, from its silent drunkenness I went off with the dogs; “it’s here, it’s here” … and us and the woken sugar and the breads shared in the celebration.
And now it’s already curded, so white, so much a flourish of pure white, the blue.
I went calmly into the wild thistle, Mama.