The Net

Just writing some flash poetry just now...thought I'd share it.

The Net

I gripped the dogwood tree,
peeling back pieces of bark.
Waiting for ginger cookies,
I wore my jumpsuit -- plaid --
while Grampie picked blueberries
and skinned fish for supper.
My friends, the bloodsuckers. 
The net hung in the shed,
waiting for all of us.
Here.

C.A. MacConnell