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Nothing quite so boy
As walking through a knee-high
creek
with a white pail swinging to and fro,
Picking berries black fresh
off the vine
and kerplunk they're s'posed to go,
But get smooshed by teeth
and then
drinking the juice instead, real slow.
Nothing quite so boy
As searching with plastic
bag in hand
the banks every eddy swirling rare,
Turning stones over with
a sturdy stick
and finding salamanders hiding there,
Then taking them home to
be sink pets
'til mom screams, followed by a swear.
Nothing quite so God
As creeks and berries,
and salamanders too,*
And little boys who see
His creations just
a bit askew. |
