poetry & things

When I was wild

I think it quite strange living here, walled by this house

when I was wilder than now, I lived in nature

stalking birds and pollen laden, blooming things

always my toes in sands or hot footed in summer

I was in love with the sky, no matter the weather

in storms I hid beneath branching cedars

sleeping on mossy pillows, in the woods of my backyard

I never gave much thought to houses then, I only went there

to sleep or eat and waited to leave again

waited for an inkling of sun to warm the cold grass

spent days climbing trees, red plums and cherries

I imagined that’s how life would always be,

living outdoors under the sun or clouds

wet with rain, always picking flowers.

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