Between

This is something; pink clouds greet me all down the sidewalk.
I know this place--up that way is the high school,
Down the hill is the elementary. In between is
The steady roar of traffic, the steady moving of feet.

At the top of my street, I used to look down
To imagine myself in London. But trees have grown up
Between the houses now, sprinkled with squirrels.

I know this place--the pencil tight in my hand,
My heart going crazy with emotion, my mind with words.
I am everywhere and anywhere, even away from the sidewalk
On the road between two schools. Adventure on adventure.
Pink clouds in Africa. How is it that I feel so close to God
When I walk, when I write, when I dream?