Mist falls from the sky
all day covering the grass
in tiny droplets.
When the dog gets out
we lure him back with butter
and a soft cooing.
She poses for a
picture, holding her baby
in front like a shield.
“How are the bees?” he
asks. She tells him spring was too
cold for much honey.
Driving home from a
party she stops short; a thin
red fox ‘s eyes glow.