What do I see, fallen, forlorn, In a field of cattle and goats? An apple tree in bloom. Cracked, Broken, Cast on the ground before fruit could ripen. Now goats tear twigs apart and black cows Strangely gently pluck and eat white blossoms. I begin to weep for a sadness I can’t name. What do …

The ring of the phone harsh and brass. Incongruous sound from slim glass. An exhale and curse haggard, harsh. Numbers slide onscreen, flashing, needy. But it is late, and steam hisses from a kettle. “Hey brother–I’ll be right over don’t worry about it.” A whispered confession, earnest prayer. Water poured down the drain Before kettle …