I dance on tiptoes over low-lying nettles, emerging into the shimmering glade as coos descend from up in the rustling canopy above.
All tagged woods
I dance on tiptoes over low-lying nettles, emerging into the shimmering glade as coos descend from up in the rustling canopy above.
She doesn’t have long. Has a finite time to search while her son’s surgeon does his best or, possibly, his worst.
“I feel like galloping,” I say out loud. They roll their eyes, muttering about what a stupid, embarrassing idea that is, so I just take off, fast.
The crowd of four-year-olds rushed and shouted behind the placid teacher. "Allez, Allez!"
The boys bound ahead down the steep path, and the dog pulls at her leash. My footing, accustomed to sidewalks, remains unsure.