The other children come, but never steal
the spot. The second laughs at rules and tells
the jokes. The third has Daddy tied in knots.
They follow not, but make their way along
the stream. The eddies swallow weaker sorts,
but these are wily ones. They lasso moons
and rope the stars astride a bucking bronc.
No spurs, no reins, they gallop off. The first
just waits with rope in hand to tether clouds.
© 2011 Kim King