we trailed our lily hands in the waters
to little avail at summer camp;
since they were sunburned before sundown
and the town with penants
just never appeared. the distant, towered
though the ferns uncurled when it rained
and the perfumes then from the earth
were fantastical and we were walking
and singing under starlight
in the Arkansas woods
coming back in time for orangeade
for toasting marshmallows
and the sparks flew up
as if they were stars
from another kingdom
and had been
called home.
mary angela douglas 3 june 2016
