so when you eat from the land I have tended and sown you will taste the steadfast wan of these thinning days, the equinox, the bluster of early winds, the spring floods, the June drought, the sweat from a laboring, solstice-taut skin sloughing, the fallen tomato, guardian marigolds, a fledgling’s bones—a mere splinter—, your soft palate scarring and softening again.