We left behind The Amish Mafia where
she learned quilting bees are nothing but gossip,
"Just like the fourth grade," she said in disgust
and i believed her as we walked
into the woods in thunder and rain.
She hummed to the tune of the rain on her hood
by the pond where we watched the circles expand.
She showed me the efts that morph under moss,
and i knew we were in the right place.
