Between The Cracks
In grandpa's old shed
on the hay smelling loft
climbing the wooden ladder stairs
the wood and the hay welcome my afternoon stay
With grandma's chocolate milk flask
back against the wooden wall
the cracks in the wooden roof
my window to the elsewhere world
With the jackal's cry in my ear
the blue sky and sunbeam butterfly
erase the unknowingness fear
of the life in the loft with the cracks that appear and are here
With the eagle's call far and ever near
the thunderclouds build
as I shuffle hay from its neat and tidy bale
I make the bed below the cracks and look up with my childlike face
to greet the wind and its gale with the strength of young female grace
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