(full of strange unfamiliar pleasures, everything still so new.)
learning to swallow, then chew, swallow, chew then breathe, the syncopation....
and then to drink, that trickle of cold uncurling in the throat..
oh how delicious it was the first taste of grass, the timothy hay coughed up....
Then the rain stopped for us, just like that.
We dug and dug, scraping here and there.
Not one blade, not one onion, not one flattened thorn!