one summer day
on a walk to the meadow
which no longer exists
(it's a helicopter pad now
blocked off by angry
"no trespassing" signs
and possessing a distinct
lack of wildlife and flying kites)
i followed my sisters
down the root-crossed path
my strides shorter
and steps less sure
only sure i wanted to be in
and to be accepted among them
so i followed eagerly
as they ran past a hornet's nest
stirring anger in its dwellers
and the sting made me cry
among aspen and fir
tree roots and pine needles
while they ran ahead
unknowing
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