Many birds and the beating of wings
Make a flinging reckless hum
In the early morning at the rocks
Above the blue pool
Where the gray shadows swim lazy.
In your blue eyes, O reckless child,
I saw today many little wild wishes,
Eager as the great morning.
Thinking today of childhood and imagination.
I remember so well the feeling of childhood play: making beds out of moss, carrying a wand made from a china berry twig, creating a complex world from my grandmother’s buttons. We can’t go back to it. The closest comes in watching our children capture it. Sometimes I watch Norah with a jealousy for that time.
I wish to slip into her skin and remember when pretend was real.