Wicker chair in the bay window
Here come’s the drums beat tap
The cartwheeling schoolgirls
I sit two feet tall with my shoes
clicking together the drum beat tap
My fingers marching tap tap tap
Here comes candy smacking
through the metal caging bars
Twittering birds around my feet
Crinkles of plastic join the band
confetti of parades dancing down
around my wicker window beat
A sudden car trip in the dark.
Your blue hands
curled in the coffin.
Stealthy in bare feet
three bandits come.
Prize swivels high between
striped green leaves.
The hose is on
running clear into black
of garden earth.
Mountains are earth, rebelling
Straining against dirt-ness
against gravity
A long pendulum dip
Followed by
Splattered drops
Mother portions them out
one-eighth of a cup
in six mounds, cupped