The Queen Droplet y Los Nopaleros
The language of the earth sits heavy on my tongue, my mind tries to forget, to forget the past, my body remembers with reverence.
The late November frost collects on the strips of grass each bauble of water an infinitesimal universe of life. At the time, the grass leaf pointed upwards towards the open air, towards the enveloping smile of the sun. On it sits a droplet. The queen droplet, large and commanding she causes the grass leaf to dip elegantly. Under its curvature sits stone…
