From Volume XII, 2007
The faint green ring, the high tide line
where the seaweed shows
the water where to stop.
From the flecks of
flung grass that stick to
frogs' backs, Dad's lawn-stained socks.
From cartwheel attempts,
staining knees and heels of hands
pounded into feet over barefoot mouths.
From lime green lime popsicle drips.
From the Luna moth in the bathroom window.
Firefly flash left on our hands.
- Rian Lougheed-Smith