no. 010 caretaker 

scrunching down to our smallest selves
jackets collecting bits of morning dew
we crouched and crawled

soil clung to bare skin
leaves matted from last fall’s drop
now imprinted on our knees

suddenly I was back at the creek edge
collecting dew from tall grasses
catching salamanders
pursuing water skippers
returning home mud-covered knee to toe

listen

do you hear that? Linda whispered

the children
chatter hushed to whispers
ears perked
eyes glistening

it was a haven for knees in dirt
for those willing to lie belly-down beside an earthworm
study shadow shapes and slits of sunshine
feel the prick of a horse chestnut shell 

Bea Buzzetti’s home barely took up space
her small lot walking distance from Lincoln School
nearly invisible but for the roof gable and a garden
filled with native plants
attracting bees and butterflies

it was Linda who first showed me Bea’s place
her attentiveness to tiny living things
mirrored by Bea’s provision

I’m holding Linda’s hand now
studying veins
the new curve of her thumb


outside the window
a red finch lands