mallards raze two dabbling ducks sit in the stream yesterday's storm gave to the grass — one a marbled maze of brown, the other green-faced and streaked with dark blue. the tread of some curious shoe dents the dirt. the way a waffle iron would. the way the afternoon cuts craters into you. a crow takes in the landscape from a high branch and caws. he studies the squirrels. mimics their movements. pecks at the ground for anything useful it might conceal. he thinks he's one of them. a rusted metal stake stands beside a trash bin. an old nail hammered into the rigid wrist of the damp terrain. where the causeway curves, uncoupled black cable ties hold hands. a snail probes the pavement. two miles away, a smaller gastropod glides into your garage and finds a soft place to die, gluing itself to a fabric dyed the hue of a cardinal's feathered flames. you set the shell on a chest of drawers that holds half your clothes and wait for something wild to raise its iridescent arms and rise. 220610 what's it to you? who go blather from