1:30 pm, I am at the front gate
sitting on the iron two seater
listening to my son cry for 'out' -
out of the stroller
out the straps that contain his form
of the wheels that brought him here.
He wants to explore -
walk the road
pick up rocks
examine the mail.
He knows not that there
is danger on the road -
fast cars, fire ants piled on the edge.
But more, he knows not that I am tired
I want to, no need to, sit here
quietly on this solid bench
away from the house
from the familiar asking of his siblings
from the sound of Schoolhouse Rock
songs, I know now by heart
he is his own energy force
and I am weak to his red round lips
his blond layers, his little boy blue.
A simple click of the red button
and he is free!
I rise and follow,
My camera now full of life.
I am breaking all the poetry rules by doing something so literal, but you know poetry of the ordinary is worth the rebellion ;)