Field

I remember clearly
a cool, cloudy Ohio day
I put on a jacket and
walked up to the
recreation center.
It must have been
November. I was fifteen.

And I didn't know why
I walked or where
I was going. But I
walked myself up to the
field where the
boys played ball and
I sat myself down in
the center of the field,
on the cold ground,
and stayed there. And watched
the world, the sky.

I don't know how long
I sat. I don't remember
feeling cold even as
there was a mist in
the air. I sat and I
didn't know why then
and I don't know why now.

For a long time I thought
everyone must do this
when they are
fifteen.
But I've asked others
and they say No.
And I cannot help but
wonder what shift
was occurring in
that moment.
Why the open field
rather than a grove
of trees? Why the
compulsion without
any real forethought?

I was writing at the
time and perhaps I
wrote about it.

Or was that when
the writing started?

Many questions that
probably won't be answered.

What I do know is that
there was a Saturday
morning in the year 1970
I sat in a green space
taking in a blue space
and something opened.

I was fifteen.