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The ghost city lives.
Remember.
#001.
The excavation begins. Old is turned to new for the sake of proliferation.
001
#002.
I may have killed my plant by repotting her.
Even as tender and slow as I tried to go,
even as I poured water again and again,
even as I packed the dirt and nutrients around her,
she withers.
I pray she makes it,
but I have a eulogy on my lips already.
002
#003.
I felt it before I heard it.
I heard it before I knew it.
An untended court,
discarded leaves,
chittering witnesses,
furtive moon,
and I.
003
004
#005.
The witnessed becomes the witness. The beaver moon reminds us that our work is sacred. We keep digging.
005
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