This was a poem from several years ago, sitting on the porch on a very hot summer day, watching my grandchildren.
Five and a Toad They marched in ragged order under the brilliant, hot, drenching sunshine, with thin cotton clouds overhead. Motley assorted clothes, sweating, begrimed, sunburned, but eager faces. One with a cast, blue with purple stars and glitter, a residual from a failed acrobatic jump in the living room. Dreaming the dreams of childhood, they marched along the neighbor’s fence carrying with them, a toad, captured triumphantly to the accompaniment of much screaming, passing it from one grubby little hand to the next. Marching in the brilliant sunlight, they sang or perhaps just giggled. 5 year-olds playing in the waning halcyon summer days of backyard childhood. David Holmes
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