Sugared Summer yarn a witness to the delicate

a witness to the delicate weight of growing

heavy and intoxicating

steaming with the fragrance of blossoms

something moved past the doorway

Sugared Summer yarn a witness to the delicateMarigold sits cross legged in the grass where the daisies grow taller than her knees, their stems bending as she leans in too close. Theres sugar dust on her fingers, pink and chalky, sticking where the heat has made everything a little soft. The necklace in her lap is already half gone, bitten through in uneven gaps, the elastic thread stretched and damp where she keeps pulling it between her teeth. Her mother had shown her how to pick flowers