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by Ronnie Hess

Beautiful child, watching
you now, half-smiling,

sand at your feet, you seem
so open to love. Yet it is impossible

to read you. Your dark hair
mirrors the sun. Sparks almost fly

as you toss your head this way
and that, shrug off a mother's arm,

follow your sister
as she leaps and cartwheels along

the beach into the sea. I see your eyes
follow her, your mind dart,

your body imitate her older moves.
You stumble and fall down,

stumble and fall over,
then plunge into the ocean

as summer's film runs out.


 

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