Cattails

On the eve of summer
we would sit in wait
for the horizon to melt with night

We fashioned worn rags

and black, rubber boots
Our arsenal contained
a roped net and turquoise bucket 

The window, still dewed

and chilled from a slumber
Liquid gold
touched the tips of oak trees
And we knew

We did not run,
we frolicked
in celebration of the sun

She was left, I was right
She, the piece, I, the glue
Nothing quite as mighty as blood

And when night swallowed gold
street lights guided us home
We named every toad
and giggled and joked

Then I turned and uttered
for her to hold open her hand
I gingerly placed a brown cattail
in that small, muddy palm

She appeared baffled, so I said,
"This cylinder contains your dreams.
When you are ready, break it open.
Set them free."

And those round eyes lit up
brighter than that day's sun
"Now I don't ever have to worry.
Because they're all right here.
I'll never lose them."