The green was at eye level and wrapped around a knot on the conifer. It was big, grassy in texture, and grew entirely around the trunk. The individual stems stuck out about an inch and seemed to curl slightly to the left, at least on this side. I ran my fingers a half inch above the stems, imagining how soft and tender they might be. This Broom moss seemed to speak to me, telling me to relax and look forward to the coming year. It was January 1st and my nerves seemed wound tight.
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