near end of summer

before the golden leaves show

today you were born

…

you drew your first breath under an Indiana sky

dove head first into a pail with two tiny feet

up in the air like a mast ready to set sail

butterfly clips adorn the garden of your head

a golden braid pollinate before the bloom

…….

dark clouds roll in like a stranger on a western town

blades of light sear an unknown path

thunder whips and breaks against the black

but rain is a plenty

and you’re 11 from 20

…………………

thirty one roses on a field for nonie