Don't Drink Bees

If I had a child
I would share all the magic
of the universe with him
We'd toss handfuls of maple keys into the air
and watch them spiral down like mini helicopters
We'd make long chains of autumn leaves
strung together only by stems
and we'd wear them as crowns
We'd blow dandelion seeds into the wind
We'd track pawprints in the snow
We'd skip rocks on ponds
making the heavy flat stones
arc gracefully like dolphins
We'd sing duets with birds
We'd catch snowflakes on our tongues
We'd watch raindrops slide across window panes
joining with other droplets
We'd follow rainbows
We'd make snow forts and sand castles
We'd race leaf boats on streams
We'd catch fireflies for summer lanterns
then open the jars to watch them
take to air, becoming earthbound stars
We'd plant tiny seeds and watch them
bloom into vegetables and flowers and trees
We'd lose our way in the woods
then find our way home by listening
to the sounds in the distance
and by following the moss compass of the trees
We'd make bouquets of wildflowers
and nibble at the violets and the sweet columbine
We'd search for four leaf clovers
We'd roll down grassy slopes
We'd catch frogs
We'd find bird nests
and watch the eggs become babies
learning clumsily how to fly
We'd lie on our backs and watch the sky
cloud shapes
sunsets and sunrises
meteor showers
lightning storms
hawks soaring
bats flying
and then we'd roll onto our stomachs
to watch the earth
ants building, bees pollinating
worms wriggling, grasshoppers leaping
Each day we'd revel in nature's playground

And then, one day, my child would grow
to have a little one of his own
and he would share all of the magic
of the universe
with her