A pearly moon rises
A rusted sun sets
Somewhere a star sparkles
And a bullfrog sings to it.
A cricket saws out a melody
In the moist and laden air.
I am of the ragweed and mud
Where the sun, in its youth,
Melts on the ground like butter
Where the fragrant scents of the creek
Ascend to the boys in the baseball field.
The creek with the old sittin' tire
Where worlds were conquered...
And pebbles were thrown.
Where girls were hated enemies
To be struck down with magical balls
Of Play-Doh.
I am of the world where
Refrigerator boxes travel through time
And furniture is stacked into spaceships,
Flying to places where worlds are conquered...
And pebbles are thrown.
The pine and the oak,
Sprouting secret knowledge,
As they dig their roots
Into the muddy soil.