To chew on grass in the sunshine. To lick at the yolks of eggs, or bright & fern-dappled sunlight out in the yard. The trees crack like whips & faraway the southerly, the change comes. It’s worst at night, beneath…

Betty Malvern with a bee. Here’s my sisterly path, the secret way. Through the woods, into the sunlight for a sec. Token uniform a spot of brown by the creek. Small whorls of dirt in the clear water, like washing…