From Collected Poems, by Marie Ponsot
OUT OF WATER
A new embroidery of flowers, canary color,
dots the grass already dotty
with aster-white and clover.
I warn, "They won't last, out of water."
The children pick some anyway.
In or out of water
children don't last either.
I watch them as they pick.
Still free of what's next
and what was yesterday
they pick today.
