All the new feeling is about loss- Madelyn Miller

All the new thinking is about loss:

Pressure and whirling, and wind in my hair.

I sat near a tower where day lilies bloom.

My sister called to me nagging my ratty appearance.

But I was outside; I liked the grit in my toenails and the grass in my locks. 

I had spent plenty of days alone.

Sidewalk sitting…monkey bar swinging.

I never had my hair curled in prefect ringlets like hers.

My twisted tangles resembled hers anyway; they were just free is all. 

I closed my eyes tight until speckles flooded my lids.

I was a trapeze artists flying between branches.

I can’t believe I could do it with my eyes shut.

She struggled to reach a branch.

I saw the beauty in her failure. 

I remember in class once, I spilled the glitter.

Before others could scold me she pattered my direction with a broom.

“Don’t mind them”, she said, patting my on the head.

Later that night we laughed about the pixie trail our shoes left in dads office. 

I still recall my sister’s prideful gazes. She was poked fun at me.

But I know how much we adored each other.

We would bask in glittering speckles.

 We stampeded in the day lily patches.