lupine ovenbird In May they purple the earth, spilling themselves like ink. Their name recalls wolves and there are as many stories as stamens for why this is. I see their sudden burgeoning as a collective howl; their flowers open into claws, and they are wild as wild can be. Toxic and prolific they walk the border between spring and summer, call heat to the nitrogen rich ground, gorge themselves on sunlight. They soon dry to husks hung with seed pods, bent stalks ushering in days when rain no longer feeds the sandy soil and everything is dust without even dew to tame it. 250526 what's it to you? who go blather from