Pine cone heart

The kid I childmind told me
that the human heart
is the size of your fist.
We sat on a bench looking up at the
coastal pines
eating cookies and drinking tea.
Outdoor pursuits again,
but they don't seem to mind.
Those pine cones are the size of a fist,
they said.
Imagine if there was a man with
a pine cone for a heart.
He'd be like magic wood folk or something,
they said,

and carried on saving the best chocolate

chip til last,

leaving me to beam

at the way their mind works,

which drifted seamlessly onto

the next imagining
like it was no effort at all.