Saguaro The Saguaro tree springs from a sea floor turned inside out, upside down, drained and dried into desert. And so it stands, a bit like us looking all wrong out of the water, no longer plant nor colony, fish nor worm. Born from a briny deep, a salty past out of time, out of place, it holds fast to the clay, clings to its sea mother’s ghost. Tortured by wind, limbs twist around invisible walls, grow without reason nor symmetry. Still it balances in skin of spines and protects its softer self. Life to the…
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