Wedged in trees
in the shadow of Mt. Adams
a small town, patchwork of dairy farms
wooded areas and old logging roads
me, a girl chasing after owls
dancing from tree to tree
wildly spirit, running through the forest
building forts, imagination my best friend
and a small group of ragtag comrades
waiting to hear our parents call us home
before the daylight disappears
behind the mountains, and at night
the coyotes would serenade us
counting the squeaks of bats, shooting stars
sky full of constellations
absorbed into my pupils
and I knew I could fly
Poetic Trials 