Outside the door
We hear children playing at the
school, shouting and laughing
the class bell rings
startling hundreds of geese to fly overhead
Henry gently pets Daisy’s ear,
where he would whisper secrets if he could
Here the winter is warm
Time passes both so quickly, one therapy stacked on top of the other,
boys with caterpillars above their lips,
I can barely remember who I was before they arrived
The cul-de-sac reminds me of the one where I grew up
Across the street are old ladies, sweet and kind,
who regularly check on us instead of we on them.
The only children’s voices are far away
That is the part we miss.
Whenever we go out, Henry is drawn to those voices,
wants to watch as kids play on the playground,
ride their bikes,
play alone and together.
He is rarely invited into the wild fray
He is too carefully observed by adults to be safe
for an inner circle
But when he does
get asked to be a part of something wild,
I get all well meaning girls talking to him in baby voices to step back,
including me.
Right now the voices are distant, too faint to hear.
