CHILD DIRT CRAWLER
“At Aunt Edna’s tiny house near the woods,
a ragged dirt ditch ran along the side of her road,
dug straight once,
but now hard-rain collapsed banks,
the long trough filled with cigarette butts,
amber beer bottles, farmer rubbish water . . .
“IN the ditch near her cottage,
grew a rapunzel thorny hedge of wild roses,
looking dead and unpromising
until later in the season.
But under the still dry and brown rose bushes ,
would suddenly come in every spring
of my child-life, the most beautiful
palm-sized green leaves.
“And because I was a child
who crawled about on the ground
peering over and under much
[to the mother’s disdain
for girls who didnt ‘act like’ girls
and came home with skirt and sash
torn from waistline],
I still remember the first time
I discovered these tiny white bells
hiding under leaves —
mud splattered from tractors
and fat tires speeding down dirt roads in rain. . .
I thought I had discovered
a message from heaven . . . that no matter
the ditch, the dry, the dirt, the debris,
that such beauty would, and could still thrive
so delicately, so boldly,
sheltered under such
a plain canopy of protection
Us too. Dear Brave Souls: Us too.”
This comes with love to you all, my loves,
CHILD DIRT CRAWLER©2018 c.p. estés.
Artwork, text and design by c.p. estés, base photo by mila young.