In my non poet era
I sit quiet 
On my new stoop
In my new city 
And watch the neighbor girls
Catch fireflies 
In their nightgowns 
Running in bare feet 
Freshly washed hair

I see the poetry 
I remember the feel
Of the wet evening grass
The strawberry scent
Of my favorite shampoo
The free sweet
Uncomplicated evenings
Running and chasing
The magical sparks of light
As they danced across
The summer sky

My youth was poetry