When the sky is straight out of a picture book
and the air like spun honey warmed by a smiling
sun,  the child in me grabs my hand, drags me
outside, and nags until I help her put together
a bouquet of violets,  clover, and “dandy-lions.”  
After we take them in, find a jar, and fill it with
water that isn’t too hot or too cold -- flowers
are like babies, you know --  then make sure
violet, white, green, and yellow each have room
to show off,  we go back out and climb into
the hammock to watch birds and squirrels
play chase,  or  grab a swing and take turns
pushing each other so high,  our feet almost
touch a cloud that looks like a big china bowl
piled high with fresh whipped cream (yum).   
If a bee or a wasp finds us, we go play under
the deck where it is cool and carpeted with
moss or hike to a creek and look for pollywogs.  
Sometimes we collect rocks.  Time passes so
fast, the first thing we know, it’s time to eat
supper.   Boy, are we hungry.   When it gets
dark, we’ll go back out and catch fireflies
and put them in a jar with holes in the lid.  
We will only keep them a few minutes.  
Otherwise, who will shine light to help Moon
and her stars keep us from getting scared?

If I have work to do, I forget.  If I have recorded
a film, I forget.   Child makes me!

 

                  (c) Phyllis Jean Green

                           June, 2011

                                o
                             ~/~