Ordinary Time

When it was warm enough to go outside barefoot,

I would sit in my grandma’s front yard

and braid crowns of lilac, daffodils, and roses for her statue of the Virgin Mary.

My fingers raked the dirt beneath the pecan trees

and created lakes for little toy animals to drink from

with some help from buckets and the garden hose.

For lunch we would have tea with tuna sandwiches

and read about Theresa the Little Flower

before settling down for a nap during an episode of Andy Griffith.

I built club-houses and tire swings with my brother,

and chased rabbits away from our cucumbers, tomatoes, and squash,

while the wind carried blossoms off the plum trees I grew brave enough to climb.

How cool the dirt felt between my tiny free toes.

How ignorant I was of that Eden for my tiny free spirit.