Running -

   out the back door

   across the yard

   through the cornfield

   down the banks of the ravine

   past stinging nettles.

          *  *  *

Down, down to the creek,

and the great, gray rock

that formed an island

in the trickling water.

              * * *

Sitting alone,

   on the rough stone,

   enveloped by the cool, green stillness

   of my sanctuary.

Finding words that rhyme with “at”
  (The fat cat sat on the mat.
    The rat ate my flat hat.)

Ten year old me,
perched in a tree.
Writing poetry.