Under the Sun

 

Under the Sun

(“I tell you the truth, you must change and become like little children. Otherwise, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” Matthew 18:3)

They draw pictures on the back of shopping lists,
they turn their moms into angels,
their dads into astronauts,
and their dogs into superheroes while the
cat sleeps in the sun.

They believe in prayer though they do not understand
the answers,
they believe in hugs and heaven,
they believe in god and tears and smiles and
afternoons spent in the sun.

They will whisper their answer to puzzling questions,
but sing like Elvis with a mic placed in front of them.
They dress up like kings, they dress up like princesses,
they dress up like the preacher and turn their furnace room
into a church. The pets all were saved the very first service.

They count stars and start again where they left off
every night of the summer. They wander through grandma’s
kitchen full of ceramics and pies.
They sneak into grandpa’s garage that smells like something
burning
and discover the pinball machine up against the wall.
They explore the backyard because
Nana and Papa said there was a family of rabbits next to
the south fence last year.

They believe a kiss can heal an owie,
they believe cartoon bandaids heal the fastest of all.
They kiss their puppy’s booboos
and heal the heart of the lonesome neighbor
who sees it all. Mom always took him cookies;
what else are paper plates for?

They sprinkle imagination like confetti,
put notes inside daddy’s books on the shelf.
They compose poems for mom and perform plays
on the porch. They see more than we see

And, faster than motion, they rewrite everything
we thought we believed
under the sun.