I stopped at the edge of the forest, my feet toeing the line
Between sunlight and shadow, where squirrels scampered
Among crisped leaves, up and around the magnolias. No physical
Barrier barred my way, no fence or wall impeded, yet
My eyes lost focus in the dappling of the light, and I
Hesitated to stray outside the confines of the civilized
World, where the rose-scented wind had my back.
A dreary diagnosis grayed the day, like the blending of black and white lumps of clay
So thoroughly that their masses could not be unentwined, no before or after, only
This big clump of the right now that she should have foreseen, but most certainly
Had not braced for. In cartoons and old films clenched fists are raised, railing
Angrily against an uncaring sky, but she didn’t have the energy to expend.
So she sat on a three-legged stool and began the numbingly futile task of
Separating dark from light, working the tacky slip between inflexible fingers, a
Salty tang of flour undiluted by her efforts, unchanged by the effort.
Praying for Eyebrowz 