Do we deserve this bottle rocket grace,
this hide-and-seek happiness,
this blueberry pie summer served
splendid on the grass?
Feral, we sun ourselves on granite slabs
We hark to the ricocheting shouts
of splashing children,
dare to chew euphoria's variegated rind
and giggling, spit the seeds
in perfectly executed arcs.
We run away, laughing,
to hide within the willows.
Out of breath, you flop down beside me
and I catch the scent of blackberries.
Why are you fourteen
when I want you to be omniscient,
magnanimous, and impossibly brave?
Taunted by a midday moon. I stalk
your bare toes with clover,
daring you to dive with me,
swinging out far past
the suppleness of willow branches,
beyond the safe, mossy edge
of the quarry.
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