I meant to show you the Elk Thistle its crazy form, chalice shape, surprising softness. The deep purple florets and overwhelming abundance. The way they thrive in grainy soil, on roadsides on beat up land in injured places would appeal to you. I meant to see them with you Maybe somewhere in Montana, Wyoming, or Idaho Chanced on the roadside, or in a high mountain meadow; In the morning near the tent, after we'd got in and set up late— shining there in the early light, drenched in dew. Your gasp, and recognition at how even hard ground births beauty, and strength— as we tried to learn from one another, so well how to do.