Updated: Sep 24, 2021
In the summers you decreed
we'd live off the land:
un-planting the onions straining against
the weeds and plucking the berries
dripping from the vines.
Oranges with peels like scar tissue sustained us,
as you whirled us through the air.
To land was to awaken
the aliens and elves bubbling
the surface of consciousness.
we dove in --
adventurers searching for the golden ring.
The dogs were predators leaping
the tall grass
as we forged the vegetational chaos
of the back yard.
Our days were spun from the magic of tales
And we were happy, then.
We held up your lies
like tiny umbrellas--
shelter from the pending storm.
Published in California Quarterly Volume 24, Number 4