Treading Feet Poem by Brian Mattern

I remember tending to great harvests,
and praising opportunity for what it was.
I remember guessing the meaning of stars,
playing with mud and laughing.
I remember wood fires, leather tents,
waking up in the dark, and pulling up Our Star,
sprinting as rays hit my back.
I remember finding ripe fruit,
and sharing that miracle with siblings.
(Though the elders already knew.)

My current self has known not that life,
yet I remember where I have been.