At Play

by holdingbreathmemoir

At Play

Scene brings together
all that we have found.

Webs gone full star, sparking strands
in the crabapple tree with sun behind
just before suppertime as I played
alone: I was seven, earth
to sky, floating skin
of butterfly, each moment mine.

I knew my horses then, my horses
air and breath. They ate stillness
on the lawns, swallowed seas and came
with love to me and I was lifted along.

I made demands on clouds and they
I swear obeyed so that the rains came
when I called them. The tree
ignited; I was alone and it was all
I’d ever need to know before the shore
of time erupted and I was banished
from the house of leaves.

–Nancy Bevilaqua

 

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