My child, there is a place
Where red robins
Sing songs under strawberry dawns
And blueberry nights.
The air is sweet with
The scent of corn husks
And clumps of raw raspberries
Waiting to be ravished.
Follow the rickety brown fence,
Past Farmer Ed’s fields filled
With white puffs of fluff.
A little farther,
And you will see mossy fields
The color of avocados;
Creamy clouds like silk butter
Blunder in blue skies above you.
But be careful:
The dirt road crinkles and dips,
And if you don’t pay attention
You might slip into slithering mud.
Don’t let it stop you, my smart girl.
Keep going, and the rolling land unfurls
Like a carpet where Mamie’s Meadow
Is at the end
Waiting for the patient to find it.
Believe me, it’s worth it.
The best spot to sit is under
The weeping willow. Its arms fall like floating
Rain around you, keeping you safe.
Thousands of clovers lie at your feet
And more than enough dandelions make
All your wishes come true.
You’ll be lulled to sleep by lazy croaks,
Buzzing hums, rustling wings.
One day, you will be there,
And I will join you
Under the willow
Never to weep
Anymore.