you took my hand
and led me 
to the bright lime hoop
- the elm flowers 
encircling the ageing gold of dandelions

who is buried here? you ask

it's not a sad place
i say into the crew-cut wind

the dirt isn't disturbed 
you both observe

and in relief you skip away

i remember your message to burglars
woven out of crabapple blossoms
in the chicken-wire gate

the whimsy of children

11 thoughts on “Whimsy

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