Like a snowflake (in spring), and the only character around is a goose (Canada). I, along with water hesitate, churning my hands in and out of air (an element of some water there), the fine fog surrounding the frost-lined water. The goose (biting at the snow) warns of impending something. I scratch my flesh; wart lichens happening to grow across my calves and knees (bitter, I am at this, but still in wonder at the colors & textures). The fine dirt below, the rockbright glimpse shining off cliffs. Your own cliffs, your own fuzzed & lichencovered rocks (testes), there, so in my mind a snowflake (in summer). Your own resurrection plant. I admit, there were tranquilizers, but this was a summer of regretlessness! Awakening to the sound of the sparrow, the scent of soapwort as it sapped across my happy earlymorning body! My skin in the cold, cold pond, the scratch of thornbush lichens (coastal) combing through my hair.
