to be eight again

2022

we plucked the last blueberries
that tart rich gift
of summer
threw a football in the long grass
watched it hang in the thick air
pulled our bikes from their perch
in the fading light of day
cascaded down the hill
the wind in your blonde hair
it was so buoyant  
to feel your age
for an hour 
sweaty, simple 
and free