"Every blade of grass has its angel that bends over it and whispers, "Grow, grow."
Perhaps a whisper, perhaps a song...
I like thinking about the song a seed might make, if we could hear it grow -Sinking its roots into the earth, reaching its stem towards the sun, and eventually its leaves, and then its blossoms, beckoning sensuously yonder.
To win the original of this painting, share this link on your facebook page and tag or message Eliza Furmansky Fine Art so I know to put your name in my daily lottery jar.
Add a title, story, lyric, or thought inspired by this doodle, and I'll put your name in twice!
Drawing will be the evening of 12/8.