four in a line
a father walks by in the sun,
a train of three behind him
in height (descending) order--
each child's head looks a different direction.
the first, he looks straight ahead.
marching forward into the world
in all his small importance,
his voice raises to assert his presence to all who will listen.
the second, she looks all around.
the light flashes off her golden head
as she takes in the world--the sky and tree and birds;
her voice lifts at the end, questioning.
and the third... he is looking down.
dawdling and lagging behind at the end of the line,
he is fascinated by the meeting of his feet and the pavement.
his voice sings deep inside him, and on his face there is a smile.
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2 comments:
"he is fascinated by the meeting of his feet and the pavement..."
Lovely.
Where were you when you wrote this? (I'm picturing you sitting in Cornerstone or Union Block drinking a chai and watching third street. )
i was sitting on the walker benches this week when it was so sunny... i wrote the first draft on the back of a file folder full of paperwork i was carrying. :)
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