I figured flowers might offset the truth of my report card which was to be signed and returned the next day. I grabbed the stem of a daffodil, snapped it at the base, then another. I looked up to see my neighbor, Mr. Shaver, brandishing a hedge clippers and shouting, “Boy, I’ll cut your ears off.” I dropped the bouquet; ran for home. Bursting through the back door, I called for my mother. Empty handed and a failure, it broke my heart to have to tell her.
a caterpillar devours
a new leaf