Cousins After The Rain

There was a lawn fence and  long hill

rolling down to the pond. We unlatched the gate

and pushed old carriages into the wilder  grass.

 

Though we had outgrown a pram, our bodies could still

fit inside its wicker frame. Troika or gypsy cart

we both imagined a different trip, loaded ourselves in

and slid over the slick green

 

startling a few robins and causing some apples to fall.

The sweet musk of fruit, flight and field

became our ripe scent of  magic. Our garden

 made secret by the craft --

 

of invention,  what tale and character

each girl felt, (fabricated in a moment's flash)

until her ride finished at the edge. The water gleamed smooth

as a looking glass -- inviting us to swim and slip through.

______________________________________________________

Beautiful illustration is by artist, Inga Moore