A hummingbird tries
to sip liquid in my eyes.
Even through glasses.


Clear cutters chop down
hundreds of trees. Put your ear
to a stump. Listen.


A factory job,
I got fired. A maple shrugged,
dropped red leaves on me.


In the forest I
learn the language of ferns—most
syllables silent.


My husband eats grapes
that squirt all over his shirt,
wet purple pocket.