Ounces of Pine 1

I blinked and lost the square I found. It turned into a rhombus of sorts, then decided to mold into a gypsy woman just past her prime magic-making years. I asked this woman what she meant by the transformation, and she didn’t say a word. Looking around, I noticed an inordinate number of frogs and dragonflies. I asked her if she also noticed these creatures, and she nodded slowly. This interaction taught me that she could indeed understand me and convey her thoughts in a method other than spoken language. I settled into place and began shrugging my shoulders. She also settled and repeatedly bent her left arm at the elbow. We had a lovely time that afternoon.


Author: Aidan Badinger

Wharved.com I am a poet. I write poems. Titles and subjects and subsequent readership are all part of one fragmented figment of our universe, and it's nice that we take it so seriously. Hopefully the craft remains and grows stronger for our children.

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