From here, memory as distant as sky, you
appear miniscule, maybe seven, left
to wander the mile-long path to school.
Morning, wild and late, overslept.
The clusters of other walkers long gone.
You’re warned: Do not look up, do not misstep!
Daydreamer, teachers complain. Easily drawn
to the finch in the window, the nest it forms
flying in each twig to make its branched throne.
And it’s easy on this path of silent sun,
birds so blue they stop you cold, enticing
you to follow their swooping tree runs
until you’re on the off road, looking
each way, each distance a contemplation—
home, a locked shelter; school, a cage waiting.
•
(Published first in Pinesong: NC Poetry Society Anthology, 2012)






