Margaret

16

Yesterday you woke me

___with pushing and tugging hands
___from my checkered covers to stumbling bleary-eyed yawns
stretching my fingers to a new June sky,

Shadows dappled dewy greens in gentle breezes while
___the light weaves satin in soft soft ripples
___pond waters when we paddled our feet in clear crisp wake
___in which some kind of fish
have yet to bite our lines
we drew when playing hopscotch with dripping popsicles
___(which may not have been the best of ideas)
painting chalk, face, and pavement sticky-orange but
___afternoon watermelon juice streaked the length of our arms anyways.

Our sandals were forgotten because
our feet can take All the work they need to do racing
___down the Mississippi and back to tumbling giggles and
our hands are knit together —only this flower strewn meadow knows that
___dirt browned hands were tangled in my hair—
cicada hymns echoed in one sweet cacophonic tune under late August’s
___frail white constellations
______knowing to…

Dream on
___to whispering firefly wings softly:
___they will always return.
Hold on
___to baby blue forget-me-nots tightly:
___they were cut, but still sweet.

to those popsicle days.