Jenna Nienhuis
nature writer | artist | mother
Category: poetry
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When I first saw her she was all stick and bones. Her thin trunk, merely the keeper of weathered branches. Had she just lost everything or was she just about to bloom? I couldn’t see her whole story, I just knew she had one. She didn’t seem worried, confident it was just a season; fruitful…
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I wish I could bottle up the scent of grapefruit blossomsto remind you of the Seed School days.“Good morning!” you were greeted with a warm smileNo shoes…no worries.The squeaks and squeals of free-range children and chickensmelding into Elizabeth Mitchell melodies.Bubble magic was only the beginningof where you might go that day.Birds, nests and eggs —…
Jenna Nienhuis 