I It was our next-door neighbor lying on his tongue, an open eye staining the rug where a dime-sized pill sat trapped in its
Back and forth in the mill we cut wood stack it on pallets ten hours twelve then the big Amish man Toby chops
Arlene taught me to identify the maple-like leaves, the umbrella of engine-red berries, hanging plump and shiny with ripeness—to collect the berries in