Today you oscillated between Pocoyo
and Kai Lan, roared like a dinosaur,
insisted I swing alongside
when I looked away for an instant
you tried to shuck your shorts
to play in the sprinklers
we whirled between blocks and trains
deck, kiddie pool, swingset, ball
a book and a cuddle, then off again --
and finally this gloaming, citronella
burning brighter as the veery thrush calls,
as evening's curtain cloaks the hills
I bless the fruit of the juniper bush
as the white noise machine ferries you
to the far shore of your own sea.
It's been a few weeks since I last posted a toddler house poem. Here's the latest installment in the series. This is probably the fourth or fifth draft; it's undergone a fair number of changes, and I'm still not sure that this is its final form, but I think it's decent enough to share.
I'm finding it an interesting poetic challenge, trying to capture the constant motion of an active toddler -- maybe especially because the times when I sit down to write are the times when Drew is asleep or at daycare, when his energy and movement are elsewhere.
All thoughts / feedback welcome, as always.