When you are five

Do you remember, somewhere
deep down in your bones,
what it was like when you
were five, when pine-cones,
planes, red leaves, mailboxes
–were everything? When you ran
to investigate a drain? The joy
of berries? Trucks, trains? When
familiar things were embraced
and new things were prodded?
Fluffy dogs, scary dogs,
blue rocks, smooth rocks?
Squawking birds, tweeting birds,
the icky curiosity of frogs?
The world was wonder-ful
and it never ended.

Well, may this serve
as a polite reminder
that all those little things
are still there.