And on one peculiar afternoon in November on a vast deserted plain,
a musty and stale smell lingers in the air.
& as the drizzly wind picks up in gusts,
the dry soil gently stirs and seethes, and the strands of pale yellowish grass breathe,
as branches then crackle to push through the soft, muddy ground to then curve and flex towards the sparse traces of light;
& then it gets slowly greener with a shade of olive-green, and tender, green foliage unfurls along the taller branches.
And little Marigold with the long golden hair stands lone at the centre,
as some leaves twirl gaily around her feet, and nature’s seal to thrive and grow.
Then she bends down to pick an only blossom, and a faint spark of light.
© 2026 Mario & Melissa Saliba
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