May 29, 2022

Reading over Red Shouldered Hawk, found an error (a doubled word) in the first poem.

Robed up and waiting for service to begin, I watched the ground in front of All Souls heave (a little of it, anyway) and out crawl a grub the size and color of my thumb, with a single horn and ludicrously tiny feet. When it got to the sidewalk, I was afraid for it, and lifted it to the other side and set in back down on grass, into which it immediately burrowed. This probably explains heavings I saw in my own garden, when I stood staring, expecting the arising of a mole, but no mole came. I was looking for the wrong thing.