A humble feast, if the rabbits don’t get them first. To say that they humbled me, brought me close to the earth, that they tasted of humility and humus. Gleaming sapphires of the dirt, the bright constellations of peasants. Straw as firmament in which they are nestled or strung. The elegant universe—soft on the teeth, the tongue. I gathered them in my skirt, basket of threads. To say that heaven lowered itself, or that I was lifted up.
Read, and listen, to the entire piece at terrain.org.