A Hand Full of Flowers

In the vivid light of this bleached moment,
I am so much more than ordinary.

I shuffle into the pine shadows
so as not to burn the delicate
curves of my shoulders and freckled nose.

I rest before the hill.
It is the only way to do it.

The velocity of my racing heart
toward all love, brandishing joy
like this bunch of daisies.

A sudden melody "give me your answer true"
pops into my head
and I am lost in my memory
on the blue bicycle
nearing the edge of a pothole.

You will pick me up from the tarred gravel
blood oozing, tears making obvious lines
down my dusty young face.

You are there to calm me, to bandage my wounds
and give thanks for the freedom of two wheels

and a hand full of flowers
for my mother.