Discovery
May 3, 2011
A poem in honor of spring and in honor of my children who no longer eat things off the ground. Surprisingly, I miss those days.
Unearthing
His thick toddler fingers
loosely grasp my pinky as we walk outside.
We single step down the front stairs
toward the new spring grass.
The
He lifts his chin toward the leafy voices
and stumbles on a twisted stick
and I catch him by the arm.
We kneel between hollyhocks and tulips
earth seeping cool moisture at our knees.
I wrinkle my nose and lift dark decaying plants
he drools and plucks a blackened petal.
I split and replant a crowded clump of Lilies
while he slides his tongue along a chunk of bark.
I bow under a wilted stand of banana trees
reshaping a ball of wild herbs. He sighs.
Grimacing, he turns to the jasper that tickled his ear
and with crossed eyes he scrutinizes tiny silver leaves.
The breeze cools across my neck until we shiver
and walk together back toward the stairs.
He releases my finger and leans over his
shadow to clutch at something near his shoes.
When he straightens, the tail end of a caterpillar
disappears between his damp lips.
I open my mouth to protest just as he swallows
the furry pill away. Startled, we share a reckless grin.
With soiled fingers I wipe a green trickle of drool
from his chin and single step back up the stairs.
