Tiny words, real but illegible. 

The dog finds a small dead body and nuzzles it with her nose. 

Sometimes the petals of moon flowers tear as they open. 

A linguistic change is called a juncture loss. 

And here you’ll have to use your imagination because I’m not sure. 

Back then we grew mock orange in the yard. 

At first I didn’t think I would continue. 

Everything including the walls had been stripped bare. 

We say exact whereabouts when we really want to know. 

I was carrying it in a wagon and bringing it back home with me. 

I had visions of log runners driving logs down rivers. 

Gravity affects us and we age. 

I know I use too much honey in my tea. 

Trust is an arrangement. 

Who decides light?