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
for my son If I hadn’t dug for potatoes I would have missed it lying between the yellowed leaves a snake’s skin colorless striated