at 5, summer means
a practiced sprawl
peering into this oak’s underside,
whispering
if each leaf a world
(more than if Horton’s dust),
then how many whos
and how, limb to stick, they connect
and what happens when
the wind blows big?
and if i pick this one or that
what world is done
and tossed away
little by little
the minute or two it takes.
counting power spirals
til the ground comes hard
she runs
what gift this curse
to know and be knowing
and wonder
who might wonder
and be knowing
of who us