Hand in hand
She leads them through the square
To see the mayor?
To see the jiving band?
To watch mommies and daddies pour out of their towers
and onto the long concrete streets?
Any would thrill the wee ones,
Except maybe seeing the mayor
But what does she notice? She who leads
little ones into the unknown?
They gander here and there,
A hair from ploughing into the saltier-than-pepper
Sidestepping him only to seize his image
And drag him along to show and tell
There’s no helping it
Had he curled up behind those cascading ringlets
they would drag him nonetheless
Drag him a ways before dropping him for the golden flutterer
Illustratively arcing through being —
She is a revelation
A dusty being vainly arcing at low altitude
Spreading her fair wings furtively to reveal a slender abdomen and
That feeling children embody and adults chase, yet cannot name
Till the bird swoops down
Another question arises
Teaches she survival?
She who leads the little ones into the unknown
Or is it that death isn’t always swift, though
inevitably equaling a degree of the arc?