She smiles into the sun
squints bravely
ignoring potential wrinkles
sunspots
takes a long swig
of water and
smiles some more.

"Don't you just LOVE it?"
she says,
pointing at the grass
(it waves back at her)
pointing at the sky
(it squints back, appraising our adoration)
pointing at the crows
(they argue nonstop and make me a headache)
pointing at the trees
(bending to peer more closely at us)

"I do" I say
tasting rain
and rolling the feel of thunder
round and round within
my mouth.

At a corner stand
they're selling blueberries
we buy some, knowing full-well
they weren't picked by the
worn hands of she who sells them
we pretend
they were
imagine ourselves
part of this life
she sells us for $3.99 on the roadside.

By the Borthwicks
cattle start their midday trek
line up in groups of soft tan
dark spots crawling down
their legs
and touching their noses

my hair is flying
as we drive
the wind picks it up
daring me to bloom