Mornings I place them by the open window close to air and light freshly watered freshly changed. I unfold the sheets and eyes follow
Grownups warned us about the treachery of horses, their devious tempers, their suspicion, dark as a hay barn, that could sink them to their
Because the night is wet and shining, green frogs pluck their little banjos and the road crew pouring sky black asphalt under floodlights backs
I would rather dance in the rain like I did as a girl at summer camp, hop twice on my right foot, then my