He startles and flies—
but for a moment, a pool of warmth,
a pool of stillnesss, for a moment

He startles and flies—
but for a moment, a pool of warmth,
a pool of stillnesss, for a moment
Overnight,
new toadstools
shoulder through
sodden grass
the way sorrows
emerge,
I didn’t ask the caterpillar
with its antennae tangled
criss-cross in a cobweb
if it wanted to be healed,
by Ellen Deitz Tucker That we do not fall betweenthe wide-spaced atoms plottingedge and surface in our world—that the world itself does not fall through us, that our bodiescan move…
“Should the fall be anything but
a short one, trust that I’ve carefully prepared a soft bed
of pine needles on the ground, just in case it’s you.”