with the monarch butterflies rising like smoke and the young robins with their spotted chests still chirping for breakfast from mom and dad, the chipmunk flitting around the corner of the shed and the magnolia blooms preparing for launch, poison ivy snaking around the locust tree in broad daylight, snakes parting the tall grass in serpentine waves, everything out in the open, everything cooking under the morning sun, no hidden ingredients or preservatives, only now, here it is, take it or leave it, the breeze like honeysuckle, the shadows across the yard like well-oiled gears, ulterior a bullshit word, nothing and nowhere to hide, no chance for cosmic secrets, only iris blossoms on the fence line.