I’ve always imagined a squirrel's nest as a hole in the trunk of a tree lined with soft feathers and leaves to keep them warm. Given that we don’t have squirrels in Western Australia, I’ve relied on picture books and movies to accurately depict a squirrel's nest, and I’ve never questioned it—then again, maybe Bali squirrels are a different breed. At this moment, I’m sitting on my hotel balcony watching squirrels dive in and out of a hive-like contraption of sticks, twigs, and leaves, somehow held together between the outer bushy branches of a tree. I’d love to know what holds it all together: tree sap? Saliva? Human hair?

The other morning I was caught up in a daydream

Walking through rows of tomato vines

They were taller than me, wildly twisting up to the sun

I was lost in a food forest

The soil damp beneath my feet

They weren’t just any tomatoes

But my tomatoes

Organic, heirloom, self-seeded from the year before

Accidental and deliberate

Wild and tamed

Tethered and free