I eat the earth with my eyes.

Fat green babies swell from flowers. I think I heard them laughing. They will soon be warty pumpkins free of self-doubt. Knowing their own beauty, they will offer their sweetness and tenderness with pride.

Honeybees capture a dancer’s grace between hard work and moving as if they are slowly gliding on long waves of heat.

Onions impatiently push themselves out of the ground. Might they grow legs and march to my dinner table?

A hummingbird’s wing brushed a curl in my hair today perhaps mistaking it for a wild branch to rest on.

This, and more, I stuff myself with as if it were my last meal for a long time.