Wolf Fox Egg Moon

Three Nights in a Tree Weeks of handshakes, passing packs of royals milk us of all potential.

At night I hold the stuffed crow tighter. A holiday in maples shoots straight from the sun, the air lends us keys and conversation. Up here we move by scraps, covered in mirthy whispers. Venus Erycina lies flat as cat, cracks tender oysters. Electric leaves lead in B singing, do it, do it, do it.