Thighs pressed

Against the spiky grass which bypassed her flower

Printed dress and poked at her skin

She reached for the long branch nestled in the grass

The bark started curling back off of the stick

As if the piece of wood had been waiting

For her arrival

Slowly and delicately

She peeled back the layers to find the smooth

Naked, unknown surface

Her finger tips swiveled over the unblemished wood

Before shoving the branch into six inches of dirt