It’s a hot day. And the children
are running about, their parents too tired
to chase them down. They are laughing;
untethered from the worries that
they have not yet learned. Each takes
their turn pushing heartily against the
stump by the water, until they find
that they can pull instead and so they try that too.
A mother calls out, and a father says
someting also, both knowing
their warnings do nothing but remove
a small shred of guilt.
It really is a hot day.
Soon the boys and the girl have left
the stump in the dead grass, exactly where
it was, and move closer to the bank.
One has seen a frog, and all children know
that anything that can be chased,
must be chased. Now they are
in the water, and the parents are frustrated
that they have soaked their clothes
but in truth are much more envious of their careless progeny.
The sun will set and there will be sandwiches
and Kool-Aid and tears in the car.
Really, it’s been a hot day.