Fragile Forktails flit from leaf to leaf, sometimes pausing to groom themselves. (And I think of Sue Hubbell's Broadsides from the Other Orders.)
Robber flies buzz: one loses a sortie with a female Eastern Pondhawk; another wins the prize of a smaller fly. (And I think of Annie Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker Creek.)
An owl swoops down and up right in front of me. (And I think of Jane Yolen's Owl Moon.)
No-seeums whine round the earrings Kelsey gave me. (And I think of Barbara Kingsolver's Prodigal Summer.)
No comments:
Post a Comment