How Do You Know, a Poem.

How do you know when something has died?

A root from the earth,

and  stars in her eyes.

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Looking Forward, Looking Back

This spring weather has been unpredictable. Unseasonably warm sunshine bleeds into dark curling storm clouds, threatening tornados. Some evenings I walk outside and breathe in the smell of the wet earth, growing again after the floods. Then, I take the children for walks during the day and we save half-dried worms off the warming concrete sidewalks. I’m not sure why, but I could never leave them there to wither.