today, like a phoenix from ashes, rose the last glowing living thing from our flowerpots. monkshood (devil's helmet, leopard's bane, wolfsbane) is a beautiful plant, tall and leggy. fragile and wispy with delicate shadows and veins full of a most potent poison. pulling leaves without gloves will allow small amounts of poison to slowly soak through fingertips, ride up the arm and shake at the engine of the heart. any breaks in the skin and the sap will move all the more quickly, a fierce arrow with true aim. doses in any larger amounts will plunge us into death almost instantaneously and yet, when a weak sun rose and pierced frost and cold, these indigo petals are ones we keep close (at our door) and we know the Cold Dark is upon us when the last one sighs and tips out of life and into the bodies of its decaying brothers.
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