Childhood Trifles

those days the sun flew like corn flour freshly ground at the millrace even in winter it was yellow when I pressed it down with my thumb like an unfastened button on my chest I hardly cut my way with a stick through the tall weed field until my knee high socks were filled with thistle tassels jumping over the fence like a thief into our apple orchard so no one knew where I was when the Big Dipper rose over the barn I slipped on the manger’s opening inside freshly cut grass stealing my grandma’s small chair for milking singing for the young foal with caramel skin those days all hearts were red and warm in the shape of a gingerbread heart each star was a story whispered by fairies in the daffodils’ glade