Child Rearing

Only a toddler, self strewn upon the Walmart floor like paper To be swept up from its tantrums against a cuddling breast And I saw tomorrow like a Pisa leaned on old men in distress The error is not in them, but in the fruit brought to the table soon Who called every dew that drenched the dawn a bitter tear And rot the root of the breaking bud compensating for drought A fruiting tree needs dry season to hold the blossoms firm Mothers need tomorrow as reason little toddlers squirm For every child is fresh foundation for the future of our years