Wild Country Contest

I parked along the side of the road where the shoulder turned to gravel. I left my cardoor open, thinking I’d only be a moment. Into the golden weeds I trudged to find my favorite flower. Bull thistle bloomed violet, jewels aloft on green scepters, as rich as Sappho’s hair, as rare as royal Phoenecian robes dyed with conch, long stems twinkling with acid, as green as the intellect. I will have a garden of thistles, a court of purple pixies, prickly sprites that know all the names of the wind. They will surround artichokes that bloom, great aubergine tassels that hold back the great curtain of soil. I continued through the grass, burs clinging to my pants like dreams, the musical warning of the open door fading in the distance. March 20, 2020 Wild Country Contest Sponsored by Julia Ward