First, there was the light in the kitchen
and the way our dishes look,
gathering together at random intervals
from all the scattered places in our house.
Next, there was the water
from the flower beds and the
look of fences on cloudy days.
Bumble bees on sun flowers
living their first lifetime.
And all the red tomatoes
in the garden during summer
Then you wonder why tree houses
are so wonderful on Sunday afternoons.
But you don't wonder for long because
their being wonderful is wonderful enough for you.
Then there was the memory swing hanging up.
The swing that wouldn't have been a swing at all
if Rhonda hadn't rescued it.
The summer day just hanging around you.
Being hot and terrible and all over you,
Next, the cicada skeleton
and somehow it made you
Then how it feels
to sit up in a tree,
with the branches twisting
up and up and playing with the sky,
and your feet
just dangling happy.
And then all of the sudden,
the sun comes out.
Then there was the way my flip-flops
looked next to my lens cap, and how it
just looked like something that would
just simply be, no matter what.
The rusted nails boys with
sun-browned hands pounded together
to make a seat in a tree
where girls in pink dresses
would find such joy.
Then there were rain drops through hot,
sticky air and feet climbing down bark,
and wanting to stay.
on the counter inside,
next to red jars and old stoves you love so much,
even when they give you trouble.
Tea and books and sisters and mama all sitting.