My first reckoning with amazement,
One of my grandfather’s rain barrels
Overgrown with blue and white morning glories,
Rooted to the green height of summer.
A blossoming barrel, a flowering topiary,
Like a sleeping bear covered by sun petals,
Breathing and alive in a deeper life,
With rainwater rainbows and interlaced light,
With climbing, winding, twining vines,
Growing even from the barrel’s cavity,
Flowing up, out, and over,
Also floating on the waters at the rim.
A tropical boscage, soft to every sense,
A magical flowering of vision
For a child steeped in creation’s dream,  
Alive in the stillness of discovery,
With hummingbirds, a half-dozen bright,
Arriving to lift the barrel into light.