To Lift A Car, Draft

Sunnyshine a.m. was the heure de cloche, and Jane lay gravity-pressed to the grass in the field. And this far from highways and houses brought the buzzings and hoppings of field mice and stink bugs to higher-volumed life. A circle of grass, and an edge-wall of trees. The cascade of sun. Light wind, the kind you run between thumb and finger, tuning all the grass and Western Redceders to discordant notes.

Her cat, Roscoe, was biting the heads off nearby dandelions, collecting them all into a pile. She would aproach a flower on all fours, sliding one limb in front of the other, then snap forward, disengage the flowerhead, and trot back to the pile, which had now grown to a foot in heighth.

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