The Story Is Not the Garden

Listen to the audio version There are twelve lamps in my little garden. One hangs by the north gate, blue above a rain-dark latch. One sits by a pear tree where moths have gathered. Another burns beside the east door, where the bolt is drawn. There is mud on the south path, fog on the greenhouse glass, a missing bucket at the well, and one bird calling from the west hedge as though it has been…