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?