Seed bombing

this morning i dreamt that i was skeining planters from every conceivable nook and cranny, spit seeds into pockets of soil so that later they might become.

it’s not so different in life, just now. seed bombing.

i roll up a whole passel of seeds into clay and toss them out so that they sprout and bear fruit where they will. or not. or their harvest be plucked by other hands, known or unknown to mine.

you’d think i meant this literally (and maybe soon, that too), but what i mean is planting connections from hand to hand, burgeoning friendships that grow in depth and breadth under anarchic ministrations as i socialize from hell to breakfast, both as far and as close as my wheels will carry me, ever the rambling communitarian.