By Alicia A. Curtis
Daddy robbed the bees, and we
had honey coming out our ears.
Too early in the season to do
more than shout, run mad limbed
through the kitchen, fall to ground.
Biscuits came out screaming
from the oven. The neighborhood
hounds swarmed. Mama walked
down to the river, came home late
weary as a skep set for harvest.
Long limbs paddling through the comb,
Daddy oiled up to smoke.
Clutching at Straws 