One long ago summer

tiny swiftly pulsing
bodies layered together
grasses of the same field
wide dark eyes peering
from camouflage fur

my breath came quicker
my eyes flexed wider
pressed with my brother
in a child-sweat sticky
summer dirt huddle

your hands a measured
interruption gently replacing
the spiky green creeping
phlox hiding them from
fox and owl and curious fingers

hiding again those infant fragments
of wildness inexplicably sheltering
in this trimmed, mown, thoughtfully
planted suburban quarter acre
roamed by infants of another kind

Tracie Nichols writes poetry and facilitates group writing experiences from under the wide reach of two old Sycamore trees in southeastern Pennsylvania. She is the co-founder of the Embodied Writers writing group and a Transformative Language Artist helping women write themselves home. You can find Tracie on her website.

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