Sapphina, a snapshot

She ran to the place, pressed
her rump up against one
of the megaliths of Stonehenge,
found just the right spot,
a concavity amid lichen
far older than she, 3 or 4
as I recall. She seemed
to belong there, propping
herself between those two
great stones with her legs,
little shoes, white socks.
When I see Stonehenge
no matter how far away
in black and white or color
she and that day are back.
No wonder they say
there is magic there, not even
moonlight and solstice required.
A summer day and the child
will do, and save what you can,
girl in that womb of stone.

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