How do you tell someone that what you gave up was too much?
The pocket of sunlight on the ferns.
The acorn caps in my pocket.
The names of flowers traded for the smell of warm pines.
The mountains keep me from flying; I can only fly over hedge rows.
I sat so long a dragonfly landed on me; first black then red.
The birds chipped a warning because it was not the hour for singing.
The only person I saw, a man with white whiskers, stopped to ask me if I knew where I was. Through a cloud of black flies, I said
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