Sweet Potato Haircut

They wake in the fresh dark, laughing

between walls of wood

panels and summer bugs,

inhaling the breezes

bringing morning to its rise.

No longer night,

but not yet light enough

to walk the familiar path 

without a stumble over sticks

or kayak paddles in the leaves 

resting.

.

For another day of fun

they almost run

over brambles of 

the summer earthen tangles 

of dirt and debris

Nature’s cakes and teas

are a splendor to the feet 

of childhood tender

so steeped in surrender to 

the hallowed grounds.

.

And when they reach the sea,

they breathe

the possibility of days deep

somewhere that hopefully will

keep,

and nestle sweetly into spaces

of the body

and if we could pray 

it might be for those dreams

to seed

while the wide eyed youths

await the sun.