same as any other spring the crow beaks drip red and a wishbone is bleaching on the window sill - it’s nothing like blood, I know that now. I am kept up early by the dry snap of branches and the deer collapsed on roadside lupines licking at their wounds. I’ve held a lot of hands and therefore a lot of bones - I can tie cherry stems in my mouth I just can’t do it while you watch. – McCAELA PRENTICE
