A million summers ago I was the youngest son

in a humble home with seven brothers, and it was spring

as long as I could remember.

I sat in the fields by day, grass rustling beneath my feet,

sheep manure stinking about me, my father’s house a point

of pale dust in the distant horizon,

my shepherd’s crook, worn smooth,

a raised serpent the flock trusted.

The strength of my arms were supple and soft as satin

and certainly a thousand flies buzzed on their loud wings

as the winds frolicked together.

I, in my strange young shell, which was not quite a warrior’s yet,

sang the sheep my songs and knew God could really see

the dust and the scorching sun,

lions, slings, giants, pre-destiny.

Chi-Chi Esimai ’08 is a freshman in Wigglesworth.