Jenna Nienhuis

I wish I could bottle the scent of grapefruit blossoms
to remind you of the Seed School days.

“Good morning!” your teachers called,
greeting you with hugs.

Behind me you stood, warming up to the day,
wearing a halo of golden curls
and a shirt that read:

A little dirt never hurt.

Free-range children and chickens
mingled with Elizabeth Mitchell melodies.

Today you might color, craft, and collect—
birds, nests, and eggs.

Make art from sticks, string,
and watercolor dreams.

Sip mud-kitchen tea with friends
and reign as queen of the tire swing.

This is childhood:

rainy-day splashes in the mud,
monkey-bar calluses and,
sugar snap peas plucked from the vine.

“I love you!” I called out
as the bubbles in the air
whisked you away to learn and play.

I wish I could bottle the scent of grapefruit blossoms
to remind you
of the place where you were
both held and free.