Saturday at the campsite,
After a week in the sand
By the spindly, rocky creek
Where they’d bathed, toddler daughter
Trying to pull crayfish out
From under the shadowed stones,
Mother up most of the night
Delighting in the cool air,
While eyeing the heat lightning
Over the mountains, aware
How flash floods could tear through here,
They let the afternoon bake
Prostrate them in the thin shade
Of the cottonwoods, until
Startled by an officer
From the local police force
Sent to check out a report
Of a car down by the creek
That hadn’t moved in a week.
His hand on his holstered hip,
He stood in the glaring sun
And quizzed them a little bit,
Then warned them they should move on
Soon. Soon as they could. They did.
Saturday, August 13, 2022
People Care
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.