The afternoon air hangs still
Like the ring of a spoon against a glass
She cups a sun-warmed tomato in her palm  
Brushes spines off of a cucumber.

Yesterday, she wished on dandelions
Sucked honey from purple blossoms 
Blew whistles through grass.

The smell of rain rides the wind 
A heavy noseful of soil
Static builds overhead. 

She’s only ten
Eyes wet and black as a rabbit’s 
Knees full of gravel 
Head tilted back
Swallowing the sky.