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.