Blueberry Hat

She sits in her blue petticoat
Feeling the distance from the clearing
Stare at her cheeks,
Flushed and sculpted pink
Smelling the taste of the dusted green dirt
Pattered of plucky pleats
Parading like Dodgers to boast
Of their petulant past times
For all the ponderers to adore
She pats her own feet
Glittering legs stretched out past the far
And safe borders of her manufactured warmth
To tap her toe to the softness of elementary mornings
Retracting in a cross legged gray light
Restraining in cross legged mold
Shutting her eyes and leaning backward
To let her brunette curls kiss the edges of childhood
Diced in curls like a picture frame,
Her eyes perched closed
As her blue beret nestles by her cheek
She sops up the sun
With one half hearted tinged smile
Growing in rings
Farther up her cheeks
The smell of sun nuzzling her skin
A vacant bird cocks its head for her in golden amusement
She looks up with her neck and poises to where she has not looked
Fertilized in whispering wisps whipping through white stocks
Of six feet high trees
Rippling through out the air
She slowly glides up in to the sky
Blue beret in hand
Rolling it into a blue ball
Her pale feet step forward
Echoing a door frame
bit by bit her fingers feel the faint crevices of that hat
She leans down to inhale its memories
To wrap in a ball
And like lighting
She throws it
Away.