Poem: What growing up in the country taught me
How to dig a hole to China with a hand spade,
how to hope that each strike of rock
struck at pirate treasure.
How to behold a lump of quartz,
more common than salt,
as a precious, glimmering gemstone.
How to crush a blackened walnut with a mallet.
How to fill a shoebox with cicada shells,
delicate and whole,
clinging to the bark like ghosts.
How to run barefoot under moonlight,
cupping fireflies and fairies,
in the palms of soil stained hands.
How to point a gnarled tree branch sword
At a brother’s fearless heart,
En guarde.
How to bury a dog in the woods,
how to find him under summer sun,
wonder how anything could ever be
so still.