Summer’s Youth” by Tyler J.

For Ray Bradbury

 

  This childhood’s Eve,

the firebugs chirrup

       on the windowsill;

 

       I lay listening in

       white foam sheets,

       like an air-tuft amid

       the ocean’s wake,

 

       and I lay listening,

       my ears turned inside-out,

       watching the full trees

       dance with the maiden wind,

 

       as all around my head

       goblin-shadows gather

       with  heat-forks and

       Moonlight-daggers,

 

       and I lay listening,

       thinking, “There is no

       such thing as oldness;

 

       it’s all an adult-lie,

       a trick Mom-Dad use

       get me to eat my broccoli.”