CHILD DAYS

Maybe I’m just a land lover

feet laid one step at a time on

solid ground.

 

Terrain easy enough to be

betrayed by a false sense

of security.

 

Better than the muck n’ weeds

swaying at the lake bottom

quick to wrap my ankles

 

I remember when

 

Toes in mud was the good goo

slopping up over little naked feet

cool and thick like treacle

After a hard rain.

 

Tracks of wet brown earth

trailed through the kitchen

and the chase n’ holler of mother

snapping her wet rag

 

Child days rolling in nature

mud and trees, and plastic

swimming pools.  The race to

get home with the street light glow

 

The parade of bicycles with

cards clipped to spokes in the

rat tat tat of our race down

the street to anywhere and everywhere

 

Hard to know why

 

Little droplets of fear gathered slow

at little girl edges pooling at her feet

A pond of muck and weeds hard to see.

No longer the puddle after a good rain 

 

And feet that left no more brown earth

on the kitchen floor for mother’s holler

Still the race to ride that bicycle 

fast and hard to the faraway

 

Rest beneath the lone white pines

letting the prickle of the earth

and the smell of heaven fill the

what can’t be seen or understood

 

I’ll float on grass and green

I’ll row my way through fields of corn

I’ll swim in the wind and stare at

the faces in clouds and feel the Earth

make love to me