6 AM, out the side window one leg through then the other.
Ben, childhood friend, waits with a knapsack at the end of the road.
Off to Berkman’s Hill, one mile down, we sit on a bench and stare towards the hilltop. On top of it’s rounded peak, stood a bright, copper house, and through the center roof, grew a strong oak tree, twisted, swollen trunk, roots thick in display, the canopy wide and black silhouette against star dusted heights.
Around the copper base, grass and mound, morning, light blue, now narrow path in sight, rabbit in barrows delight, up and down, squirrels rule the tree as in a vast kingdom, a glowing for. Then across the curved branches high, birds on a wire, watching over Berkman’s tower, dancing brow, upon the bronze shimmer glow with chirping, coos, gold leaves floating, on small backs, and yellow hues glaze over the great oak limbs. Doe, bird, prairie dog all bask in falling orange, hot sun eye, on a sweet caterpillar nap, a view on earth’s timeless bedrock story.
8 AM and an old man gray with a young man tall, walked, and talked along the east copper wall, they stood in their suites, passed papers between, at noon, the great bell, sounded from the park, the gents, were gone, just before the ground shook, thunder deep, the copper began to quake, a storm, a shrill, a purple beam bright, daylight, starlight, silver clouds, silver light, whipping wild, like a tail on a kite, we dashed to see, where the star might have fell,sure enough, at the top Berkman’s Hill.
Halfway up the trail, we halt and we duck a silhouette, a lady in a hat hair of almond ash, tied back in a bun, clothes layered of linen, and lace undone, she held, a basket and paisley suitcase a sheep dog followed, three paces behind, bag in teeth, collar stuffed with two daisies, they climbed, and formed a narrow steady line, they went through the gate, rested in the yard, a rumbling from the earth, put us on guard.
we saw the fallen silver star, grow wide up from the ground, cut the house in two, lady and sheepdog, seemed to be collect, drawing from her suitcase, needed effects, she threw about blankets of braid for shade, no time to lose daylight now fading fast, we run to greet the lady and the dog, she met us at the top with a handshake, through copper rooms where vines grew up the walls, copper balconies of rose bush and tree, tasted garden fruit, water sweet and blue.
Other children came up the path to dwell, young smiles, ears, feet, hands, laugh and laugh and laugh, they climbed the twisted trunk to that bird line, the lady proclaims we all can enjoy, a place now home for child, squirrel, owl, carefree, young red cheeks, daring wild eyes, now all rightful owners of Berkman’s hill Sunlite, star stuck, copper magic abode. Now at night’s nearing, the moon bids us off back down the hill over flower patches around crystal stone, rock metal astray over moss and wintered grass brown tall shade
Ben and I, so filled to the brim agreed for tomorrow to meet here again.