Friday, April 4, 2014

when we were children

When we were children
the moon was
dotted with watercolor puddles
the splash of God’s tears,
the dream of wider eyes
and deeper breath—
and mouths struck silent

She’s closer than the womb of time—

and we are jumping
on the tractor tube
out front of our green rambler—
the grass new-cut
and the ticking sprinkler next door
keeping pace with crickets—

a spring evening
when wild boys
have nothing but
sweat and reverence—

When we were children
the moon was
in our eyes
and at our feet.

when we were children
a poem by troy cady

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