We’ve moved to the suburbs;

evening walks are filled

with the silhouettes of tall trees

against the darkening sky,

their simple elegance poignant enough

to make me want to paint them.

As we walk along the winding sidewalks

and down the forest-lined road,

we are surrounded by the smell

of summer blackberries

bountiful enough to make me 12 again—

a grinning girl in cut-off jeans

licking her berry-stained fingers

and rejoicing in being

at home in this world.