birthday poem in the rain
this dear child at six
knows something I don't
remember about the rain
about the smallest
apple, the last bough
with fruit on a fallen tree.
like a torn umbrella
covered by the last leaves
she finds it
the school boy apple
the smallest dusty red,
and shines it on her shirt.
dear child at six
knows something true
about the world
she hasn't seen the seeds
glow, or forsook the cantankerous
worm from making a home.
