those days the sun flew like corn flour
freshly ground at the millrace
even in winter it was yellow  
when I pressed it down with my thumb
like an unfastened button on my chest

I hardly cut my way with a stick
through the tall weeds
until my knee-high socks
were filled with thistle tassels
jumping over the fence like a thief
into our apple orchard
so no one knew where I was

when the Big Dipper rose over the barn
I slipped on the manger’s opening
inside freshly cut grass
stealing my grandma’s small chair for milking  
singing for the young foal with caramel skin

those days all hearts were red and warm
in the shape of a gingerbread heart
each star was a story
whispered by fairies in the daffodils’ glade