waking up like a needle
in a haystack
afraid to be found

and if found
to make nothing more
than a stitch in water

but even so
the unimaginable ripple
might touch the tongue

of a passing deer
who has bent to drink
so long and so deeply

I forget my fear
and become the current
in her liquid eye

Oh, how I adore that first stanza.

Today’s search for new-to-me writers led me to story South, an online publication that is currently my most favorite of favorite things. I’m going to go read some more. Y’all #stayAwesome.