This is what he promised me: August, and berries that fell right into my hands; he promised me handstands. He promised me bees, he said the nights would smell sweet and wet flower petals would stick to my toes. He said I'd just know. He promised me sparrows, and switchgrass that crept past the hem of my skirt. He promised me clean dirt, and hard work. He promised an August that I'd always remember, then stayed 'til November.