Tamsy runs through the dark pasture,
chased by his father’s screams.
The drunken man casts his voice like a fishing net,
but nothing he says will ensnare Tamsy;
his bare feet know the way to the woods.
Once there, he falls in front of his favorite tree
and hugs its roots as he sobs.
“Shhhh,” says the wind.
The blowing grass brushes away his tears.
A branch taps him on the head.
He looks up and watches the lightning bugs dance.
The song of frogs and crickets drowns out his father.
Amongst friends, he sleeps.
