We ran over clovers
and through seeded yards
carrying life in our clutches
in transparent jars.
We plucked it off petals
dripping with nectars:
We were young explorers;
life’s stuff collectors.
We caught it winging
its legs dangling down
and sucking and stepping
in its buzzing gown
from roses to daisies
beneath our bare feet.
Untaught in our heyday,
we cut the mainsheet,
and grounded, now, life,
deafening loud,
angered, betrayed
by a pellucid shroud,
scolded and pleaded,
stinging our ears.
Yet the glass that held
our bumbling fears
made us brave and empowered
as we ran through the years
carrying life in our clutches
like frightened winged tears.
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