restoration raze your husband's father is here with your son, grinding down the guts of trees to make them wide enough to wish on. beneath the soot of sapwood is a hollow. the walls are roots and earth. you scan this impossible abyss for life and find nothing worth noting. a friend who was named for the sound that lives inside a song coaxes flowers from the dirt. she oversees a symphony only your eyes can hear. ranunculus rises to meet her. you are quaking_aspen kissed by autumn's breath. this is what you do: you build the world anew with all the hope your hands can conjure. 251020 what's it to you? who go blather from