Right field was the apple trees
The telephone-poled chickenwired backstop my dad made
The big maple I knew every branch on,
The tougher oak too.
Hide and seek with the mile away neighbor girls
Capture the flag at night
Lightning bugs
Stars, the moon and a Christmas telescope.
Dancing and showing off to the Music Man
Oklahoma, the console dropping platter after platter
Mom & dad in their chairs nodding appreciatively
King of the hill on the horse’s manure pile,
Digging for fat worms in it & feeding the bluegills with them
Bike for miles
No fear, truly free.
Stopping at Mrs. Burgher’s rhubarb patch –
She’d give a good fat stalk to me & I’d ride off into the ditch with sour tears.
Hiking through the woods waving sticks in front,
Tip, Rags, & Rogue smartly attending
Football, basketball, frog baseball, chicken
Snowforts, and sister
ABC’d on the steps
Cookies mom made when the bus couldn’t make it through the snow
We were kings of apple town, then
Yesirree!
Notcare had I at endless days
The ways
protected
must’ve been!
by some shimmering being.
