Moment

The drop and the slide 
down the hill was real, 
and coasting through thick
overgrowth of cogon grass. 
When you are a child this is
enough to disappear the world; 
to disappear other children
who ran, moments earlier, 
noisy through that small 
milky patch of wilderness. 
Strangely, you felt no panic
through the hours no one 
came to look for you. A bird 
called high in the outer 
world, its cry rippling down 
to the bottom of the bowl where 
you just floated, not trapped.