Childhood Trifles Poem by Cristina M. Moldoveanu

Those days the sun flew over me like corn flour,
freshly ground at the millrace.
Even in winter it was yellow
when I pressed it down with my thumb,
like an unfastened button on my chest.

I could hardly cut my way with a stick
through the tall weeds
until my knee-high socks
were filled with thistle tassels.
I jumped over the fence like a thief
into our apple orchard,
so no one knew where I was.

When the Big Dipper rose over the barn
I slipped into the manger from the window,
landing in fresh grass or hay,
took my grandma's small chair for milking
and sang for the young foal with caramel skin.

Those days all hearts were red and warm,
shaped like gingerbread hearts.
Each star was a story
whispered by fairies in the daffodil's glade.