The Sunday Poem: Slide

I just got back from a week of business travel, which included getting to see fall happening in basically three corners of the country. Here in Southern California, fall is basically just brown, save for the few imported trees that change colors. In Boston, there were puddles of vibrant yellow or red leaves under the trees — from the airplane as we departed, it was a shocking sight — a colored shadow under every tree. New York, well, was just rainy.

It made me miss seasons.

Slide

There’s
A pile of sand
Backyard, all covered in snow;
We perch on the very top and slide to collide into
A panting heap of children, red noses and colds.