Her small hands reach into the garden
for pansies.
She strokes them against each cheek
black and purple velvet.
She lies on the ground
face up
mouth open
ready to swallow
the maple tree.
Butterflies kiss her sleeves
as she nose-dives
into the roots
and inhales
the smell of birth.
The yard is safe.
Her legs kick
swinging dirt
digging deeper
for a secret
from the darkness.
She finds none.
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