I went out to the maple tree
because a riot was in its head,
and flung a Frisbee at the noise,
but brought a starling down instead,
and laid it in a shoebox nest,
and put some twigs and Skittles in,
and struggled up, and set it back
where I imagined it had been.
When I was shinnying down, I felt
a Skittle windfall on my head.
A skinny girl in red capris
was pelting me with green and red.
She swung her legs and laughed my name,
then disappeared into the crown.
I followed her until the swaying
and broken sunlight brought me down.
Though I am old with waiting here
and she has grown up and away,
I’ll watch the tossing of those boughs
and catch her silhouette someday,
and we’ll walk lightly up the boughs
and gather, in eternal June,
the Nilla Wafers of the sun,
the Necco Wafers of the moon.