down the cool aisles, basket
tightly held in hand, harbingers of summer
closely shelved: the liquid soap to
blow rainbow orbs, the thick sticks
of chalk, the bright rubber balls,
a pile of planets, small moons,
many-hued, one for Dick, one
for Jane, and one for mother too--
these summer days are long--
our young must be amused....
waltzing down the cool aisles,
glancing past the butcher, sipping
back those words that come
entirely too quickly,
or else be told "be quiet mommy"
cash flies through the air at the
Western Union desk, through the
wires, we are surrounded by
such ordinary magic but
we tap our feet in our haste
for the baked asphalt of the playground,
the shade of leaves above benches designed for discomfort, the
water swilled from icy bottles, the
feats yet to be performed and applauded.....