I Shall Come Back

I shall be coming back to you 

From seas, rivers, sunny meadows, glens that hold secrets: 

I shall come back with my hands full 

Of light and flowers…

I shall bring back things I have picked up, 

Traveling this road or the other, 

Things found by the sea or in the pinewood. 

There will be a pine-cone in my pocket, 

Grains of pink sand between my fingers.

I shall tell you of a golden pheasant’s feather. 

Will you know me? 

--Hilda Conkling (age 10), 1922