The Couriers

Words from a leaf on the shell of a snail? Tendency as reciprocity etched in shale. Cider vinegar wrapped in sealskin? Accept it, so little is genuine. A box on a meteor compelled by earth? Lies, emptiness, grief: it’s not a first. Frost on the dock at Penetanguishene? Tears from Lake Huron, Erie, and Michigan. Not a moment to yourself? Don’t let love put you on a shelf. A preponderance of errors? The soft one sucks her rivers. Love, love, needs no reason. Yes, yes, yes, is my season.