For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. Matthew 6:21
You, child, have just crushed a paper cup
& discarded trash near my feet.
A gulp of lemonade’s a mere
moment’s reprieve from your dancing
with the fireflies, never quite
catching lightning in your hands.
Now you roll down the grassy hill,
drop all the way to the bottom
& look up. You take a bow, love.
If you were within gentle reach,
could I make time stand still? My thoughts
of fallen cups in childproof past:
green sippies, a faded Bugs Bunny,
& the smiley Kool-Aid man with
other lost cups of your cracked glass,
these fragile splintered shards of you,
your refracted light, all your
contradictions & multitudes.
You continue to bow deeply
& I watch from a distance,
red wine in clear plastic tumbler
now forgotten, as I imbibe
flickers of lost light. Grass-stained knees,
come to me please! That I may cup
your chin, my concave palm leaking
time which rolls to where, I pray,
we are both whole again & saved.