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A flinging reckless hum

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.

                       –Carl Sandburg


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.