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the remembrance of becoming

Updated on November 3, 2014

i sit between bites,

between worlds:

just long enough

to see a lark

become a leaf.

i think about the white porcelain

bird bath of child hood;

the magic of washing

things in rain water:

frogs, mud, tiny wolves --

of watching the elements

separate and come together.

we will never stop

trying to go back:

to the strawberry patch,

to the leaf-lined fence,

to the spiral path leading every where;

when there was always some

thing waiting to happen.

© 2014 Michelle Warner


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