Home from morning
filled with new friends
a water slide
the color of malted honey.
Nobody wants for anything because there is this humming of my children.
And for a while I glide
into a slippery sleep
where legs feel weightless
while gods blow on ankles with hints
of where we're going next.
I am not the leader here -
Off we go toward stars of blues
that dot the highest trees
to taste like minted lime
if only I would try.
And oh, this view
of zebra feathers stealing time
between a lightly purpled maze
of Queen Anne's lace,
it's just so pretty here.
This isn't me but I don't care because
plays with this hair
and oh God please let me stay for dinner.
I know we've got more worlds to see
To be, to try hard not to need
"Mommy, can I watch my show?"
"Mommy, is it time to go?"
"And what about this salamander?"
I skid and bump toward tacks and spines
feathers gone now, only rinds
and just in time
A dimpled sky goes dancing.
Cinnamon trees bend their knees
While sticky frogs whiten up their green
in ponds of pillows overflowing.
I can't stay long, I tell him how
I want I feel I cry I bow
but now my feet are that of clay,
to be the leader.