I saw your little basket of light

as I was walking out of my house,

the heat fresh and potent,

during the small sliver of time where

the sky is neither awake or asleep;

a deep, periwinkle expanse with

a smoky pink shadow.

At first, I thought you were a trick

by the light. Perhaps an image

conjured by my own, fickle eyes.

I blinked, and you

disappeared, as quickly as

a flower let goes of its petals,

as quickly as how

spring melts into summer.

But then you came into existence again

like a match being struck against

phosphorus.

Flying,

floating,

flickering into and out of,

until a breeze silenced

your quiet fire.

I saw you

again and again.

Near the old oak tree,

by the dozing car,

barely escaping out of the

giggling child’s small,

pudgy fingers.

I was once a child & now

I am no longer.

But you still hold all the memories

of my summer childhood.

Maybe I can still catch you &

hold you in the smooth

creases of my palms.

I’d wonder how you manage to carry

all the warmth in your tiny,

three-part body,

how you rekindle the curiosity in me

that time had long burned out.