The Field Called Beyond
Abi Wise
A hand drawn map
Pencil smear on fingertips
Eyes wide
She’s drawing
Writing
Documenting this childhood
Then we look up
To the place around us
Every blink we discover
Something new
Something drawing us near
Sound is nowhere, yet everywhere
Like whispers
Crunch of leaves
Swinging of branches
Soft flow of the stream
Trees are distinct doorways
To a distant land
And diverging trails
Will be fuel for two days’ plan
He’s balancing on logs
Kicking through leaves
Turning around to beam
His rubber rain boots
In stark contrast with the dirt
Birds chime in with our laughter
Harmony fills the air
Our ears, our eyes, our smiles
Pulsing with delight
We scamper around
Sit on a rock
All three lounge in a tree
And look to the beyond
There’s a field behind
Those trees
I say
I can tell
Breathing in the mud, bark, creek
Our minds whirl once again
We jump down from out perch
Like birds falling into flight
Seeing nothing around us
Nothing but our new world
But
We never make it there
To the field called beyond
Instead, called back
Through this path
Over the bridge
Hopping on logs
Until we’re home
Eating as if kings
Recounting our adventures
To parents who love
Smiling out the window
And then we close the storybook
Or maybe shut the outdoors’ door
To be opened once again
And again forevermore