How else would you decide to try
to lick your elbow upon an early morning,
or measure thumb against your middle finger
when he shouts: mommy, look, they are same size!
And would you hear the souls of streams
in popping bubbles, in watery explosions,
as they poke a stick in rocky river beds
and glue your ear against the wooden grain:
How else would you adore the art:
Canoes carved out of milkweed pods,
Mandalas rippled in acorns, leaves, and sticks,
and rainbows of the colored canyon sand.
Shield bug houses constructed of the paw paw seeds
and forts of the hedgeapple balls to protect
the pumpkins from two hungry squirrels.
And would you know to run outside
To hide away from monsters?
To search for turtle with a broken leg
inside your bath in robot submarine made
from an old Nutella lid?
And would you stride faster than the wind,
with pocketful of rocks, crab shells and starfish,
five rusted nails, a bluebird feather,
a wheat back penny, coyote bone,
and other countless treasure
to be constructed into something New and Big.
With so much treasure and so lightweight with love.