Posted by: Ron DuBour | April 2, 2019

I’m the Golden Little Girl~by Annie Johnson


 

 

I’m the Golden Little Girl

Image may contain: one or more people, people standing and night

I’m the golden little girl who talked to trees;
Who, barefoot in the garden, chased the butterflies,
And ran laughing through the summer rain.
I’m the child who crept from the house at night
And sat in the darkness staring at the stars.
I’m the little girl whose eyes reflected the wonder
Of long tailed comets streaking across the sky –
Who clapped her hands exclaiming, Oooooo.
I’m the child of bass-throated bull frogs,
Flashing fireflies, noisy cicadas, fiddling crickets
And night birds, rustling, in the darkened trees.
I’m the child at home in the shadows of night,
Walking barefoot through the dewy grass;
Hearing foxes barking in the far-off fields
And feeling the deer sleeping in the deep woods.
I’m the child whose lips touched the blades of grass
As she whispered to the earthworms and ants beneath.
I’m the child who felt a reverence for everything,
Who, in innocence, knew nothing of the word, Holy.

Annie Johnson©


Responses

  1. Lovely poem. Beautiful memories.


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