A Garden of Virtues

The cicadas chirp every afternoon now. Their sound scratches like brambles and burns like sunlight. I never thought I would share this with Leslie.   But here we are. This looks like a ball-jointed doll. It looks like the country. And it looks like me. I had to put us both in vintage jewelry. I'm obsessed.

The sun had just risen, and Rooster was crowing. We stepped outside to the porch for a little while, before I left for work.

Come, my love, let's go a blackberrying. It has been raining all day, and the woods are fragrant and soaked with dew.   I had a taste. This is when I fell in love with you. The way your hair fell around your ear. Oh, God.   Forbidden fruit is the sweetest. The berry you never taste, delicious. I realized I just wanted to be alone with you. I forgot about everything else in the world. My whole world, which is too complicated. The light is starting to fade. Let's go in, my love. We are soaked from the rain-drenched grass. (Leslie promptly got a bath with the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser).