my face lay against the sweltering rock

with one side toward the sun kisses

clouds above me stream along

shapes and sizes I make

a tickle breeze keeps me away from biting flies

my knee is skinned and bleeding a little

is it supper time

as a whistle blows

cars scurry home like ants

wait…is that a plane

then we jump

from the rocket-like stone

twist our ankles to the ouch side in

wince and run the whole field in one burst

we reach that one spot and act like kings for a summer second

looking down on the kingdom

running into battle against invisible soldiers

to break through to reach home

where there’s a bush with some berries

by the picket fence and an ant hill

I ate five

you a handful

back then…

back before supper