• In the mornings, I burst from the old wooden door free and wild
    through mother’s flower beds then out to the sun lit orchards.
    In the afternoon I climb a plum tree, snacking on the purple fruit,
    later resting in the tree’s shade.
    In the evenings I would roam farther, but mother’s strong arms pick me up,
    taking me back through the door which I will run out of the next morning.