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weeds

Along the riverbed it's thick with green. The overgrowth enshrouds the sky. The undergrowth is dark, damp, and resistant. Fragile, wet tendrils grab and pull at my skin. My movement tears them loose from their fibrous stems. The nettle stings. The grass cuts. I worm my way to the open areas, legs itching. Here, in spring, you could see clear to the river, but now the weeds conceal it. Leafy shrubs, wildflowers, vines, horsetail. A haven for slugs, spider webs, and tiny worms traveling on thread. Dewdrops glisten, ferns sway. Everything stretches up, seeking light. There's enough for all to thrive.

 

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Uploaded on September 2, 2015
Taken on August 17, 2015