Tuesday, 7 June 2016

Dry Land

At the end of the rains we took our places
seemingly irreverent to the near sacred
act of being outside for pleasure.
The children, kneeling to plant sticks and feathers,
discarded their hats on dry land.
I sat as if this was normal weather
and forgot all that had passed.

Room for their assertions and their lightning feet
so they seemed muffled on being freed
from the incessant indoors for months on end.
As they retraced the paths and bends
I didn't know who they were,
indeed they didn't know themselves,
and at last it was time to remember.