Summer so dry
the child had not discovered
a rain puddle until today
Even now the only one left
on this block as droplets
evaporate in the pavement
Static clouds overhead
keep us outside
she tramps the small
Collection of molecules
until they disperse
along with the leavings
Of trees punctuating
her hand motion
through the puddle
She might stay all day
is what I’m thinking
as we recall together
The day’s happenings
she repeats the refrain
what did we do today
I punctuate each moment
sometimes with a kiss
as between verses
Of a song she sometimes
does not want to end
I want her to remember
So many kisses
she thinks of them as
numerous as grains of sand
That shift and settle
punctuating the ocean
part of the water the same
Joshua Keiter 