It was a day like any other
but then, after a rain, the sun broke
through the clouds like a summons
and blessed the baptized trees
with the green truth of their grace.
I was eight and followed wherever
the light commanded, and here
it lifted me over the fence and down
to the creek, bowlegged and barefoot,
poking with a stick for crawdads.
It took me under the bridge at the edge
of town and into a country patched
with acres of green and green and yet
more green, soy, alfalfa and corn
high enough for an army to get lost in,
until there were no more trees,
just the creek and a gravel road,
dust rising like a controlled burn
from passing cars and me following
the clouds to their destination,
lost but neither aware nor caring.
And even when they found me,
for some small-minded soul had kept
watch, I would not believe how far
I’d gone or what time it had got to be.