Green Oasis

My daughter nestled into the crook of my shoulder and we gazed up at the soft blueness of lastlight. I had just removed some cat manure from the lawn. I looked over at her hive ridden body. A cool breeze hinted at the coming autumn.

She reached up, caressed a branch of our small pomegranate tree with its solitary blossom, and said “Everything’s perfect. It’s right where it’s supposed to be.” I smiled to hear such poetry come out of a little girl’s mouth, and for a moment I believed her.

We went back to spotting gape-mouthed crocodiles with castles for party hats as they floated by above us.