A Year of Childhood
In January,
when the thrill of the holidays has not yet faded
and the snow still enchants with its glittering smile,
she flops into snowbanks and skids on her knees on the ice
of her backyard pond,
In January,
when the thrill of the holidays has not yet faded
and the snow still enchants with its glittering smile,
she flops into snowbanks and skids on her knees on the ice
of her backyard pond,
Hello, my friend.
How have you been.
It's nice to see your face-
Or the forehead skin.
I don't understand
What could be so vital
That you never look up
At noon i knew it was not right
Once filled with hope and love and light
The blackened pavement of my street
Now has nothing to see in sight
Without toys it wasn’t complete
Summertime: long days, bright sun,
The smell of sunscreen and bug spray
and clouds of mosquitoes
while we're hiking in the trees.
And then!-
The moon is waning,
slipping away into the night
much like my mind.
as I run over boulders and logs and grass and hills and trees and rivers and-
Even your favorite subject can be your hardest
Even the "smart ones" will fail
Even good grades become futile
Even a textbook won't teach you.
A wingspan of ash, she scours the sky for signs of a way forward.
Beneath, the writhing landscape of a future so foreign we cannot yet comprehend which color she will be.
Now is a tree,
a place that is made of history.
Feel with your fingers
for lines etched in the bark,
the future is there
The best part about summer
Is the nothingness of it
Lying on a blanket in your back yard
A book on your chest
And iced tea in a mason jar
The best part about summer is the Fourth of July
Intuition is our instinct.
It’s our instinct tapping us on the back
and whispering what it believes will happen soon,
what it needs you to be on your guard for.
After 5th grade,
My bracelet
Was a brown bead
On a thin white string.
After 6th grade,
My bracelet
Was a green bead
Multitudes
I crawl
I walk
I talk
I bawl
I run
I climb