Magicians We Seek
Off in the distance, someone leaps over blue thimble
globes & thistles, just clears grape hyacinths’ beaded
flowers, smacks full into delphinium spears. Later
she sleeps in piles of forget-me-nots.
Nearby a horse grazes the Kentucky bluegrass between
Daylilies & Icelandic poppies the color of scarlet ibises
or the spots on black widow bellies. Their petals fan out
like fly agaric that purrs in shade.
Second after second someone shows his child mountains,
their caps pleated with white, their valleys humming
with harebell & buttercup. Cougars with kohl-rimmed
eyes slink between oaks while painted turtles with sweet
potato stomachs bathe in sun-charged grass.
Each minute a child falls in love with river birch’s
octopus roots & clam shells scattered like tarnished
coins in a swelling stream. She may fall to her knees
while embracing a burnished sky or furrowed storm
clouds or both.
Every time we dive into landscape & break the surface
with grass-stained knees & muddy elbows, every time
we gaze over heads to a red-tailed hawk’s slow midday
soar, every time we stand in a field & witness robins’
worm-seeking hop,
each time we brush the heads of balloon flowers’ starry
tips with primate fingers, we become the magicians
we seek—ridged-capped, feather-robed,
nimbus-shod.
