beneath the straw brim
her eyes see everything.
the grass hides her feet
the garden lies quiet
the angles of the house
bend away from her

in the basement
her father is hiding:
buzzing softly among
cement and sawdust,
breathing damp and cold
in early August.

and in the sun
she's nearly perfect
nearly white
her head is buzzing
in the perfect light

but the house is fading away

© 1981, Carin Perron