by Marceline White Mateusz Raczynski She lost her shoes in the last goddamned storm, wind came through ripped them right off her feet, now they seed the fields somewhere far beyond her sightline. Her socks flap in the breeze, stripes warn away raccoons, frighten the deer. But she’s been out here on these Plains for too long, by herself for too long. She’s been lonesome from harvest moon to strawberry moon, hanging around by herself with no company to keep except the cawing of