Sunrise Farms (II)

            “Weed.”
            “Weed.”
            “Weed.”
            Jenny tried to look at each weed as an ancient tree, and imagined the little clod of dirt clinging to the roots was a massive hunk of the earth’s crust being rent from the ground. The blooming rows of dahlias in which she worked all day with Blake and the new guy Tyler were galaxies with bursting suns and orbiting planets. Earthworms were dinosaurs. She did this to feel smaller, like her life in these few acres was just as cosmic and meaningful as that of a famous poet or author. Each day, the weeds grew higher.