i remember one time when we stood
with our bare backs to the sunrise
and our eyes fixed on a bluebird,
as stiff and as still as scarecrows, we stood
in rolled-up pant legs and nothing else
in the grass and let the dew cry onto our feet,
we sang to the bluebird at the top of our lungs
and he sang back, a much prettier song.
with tickled toes and flushed cheeks, our Mothers
watched from the porch as we held the sunrise in our hands.
we lifted it up with our strong twelve year old arms
and we brought it Home to them.