Bandersnatch42

Admittedly, I was a rotten child. I liked to spend my time throwing rocks at stray dogs. No one ever bothered to stop me until the old voice in the alley. “Why are you throwing rocks at puppies?” It was an old man voice, deep and gravelly, so I didn’t stop. “Because I want to, old man,” I retorted and tried to sound mean. There was no warning before I heard a yelp and felt dirt under my shoulders. I tumbled over and realized the yelp had come from me. I lay on the ground and listened to my heart beat. That old man had pushed me down, and now he would pay. “You asked for it!” I yelled and grabbed the first

Only here can I find you on mute mornings of poetry, where words unsaid suspend, up end, their breathy presence the wind across the hills, plains, lakes, sneaking through the shudder of grass; the ocean in a shell. You are in each inhalation of Spring even though April's love is lost and drowned, you soar. Only here can I find you blowing the world my way. It won't be long before I decode the wind. The world has never been so loud

Digging beneath dappled shade, And a chorus of applauding trees. Crunch. A sharp-spade chewing sound, Metal hum like plucked wire. Aching back, muddy smears, And not a blister; just A certain hardness of the skin, Cracking like a gourd Across the wrinkles of my thumb.                 “Why were you digging a hole?”                 She asked me, afterwards.                 “It felt