For a handful of blackberries,
a bucket of sweat.

A dozen webs across my face
to hear the thrush’s song.

Muddy boots, grassy shins, gnats in my eyes
for a single centimeter of purple silk,
chicory petal pressed
between finger and thumb.

I tick check, chigger check, poison ivy check,
but mostly, I am out here checking—
Am I alive?
Am I a part of this?

The spider dangling from my lashes
assures me
I am.