Atmosphere Childhood

I remember days in childhood where I would plop myself down on the grass
And tug on its blades,
Then tilt my head upward,
Where I would see clouds as animals constantly morphing shapes,
A turtle that curls in his feet to become a snail,
I would giggle,
And the turtle-snail would extend his neck
And poke out his feet
To shift into a goofy-looking giraffe
That reminded me of the animal cracker ones
That I had reduced to crumbs
On the corner of my mouth.
Years have passed,
My days of short hair,
Overalls and bare feet over,
But childish wonder remains,
Even though countless dull science classes have explained to me what the sky is,
I see it differently,
The sky itself seems like that endless blue-and-white blanket
I used on late cool summer nights
To hide from darkness
By pulling it over my body
And holding up the small electrical sun.