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on the first bright day of spring
the boys strap on their san­dals
the girls let down their hair
the sun wash­es their faces
the green grass sat­u­rates their blood

a day for fris­bees and name­less con­ver­sa­tion
games of catch and leisure­ly naps in sway­ing ham­mocks
until the bus­tle of life mate­r­i­al returns

for now on this unof­fi­cial hol­i­day
of breezy smiles and cloud­less eyes
the ants are even wel­come at this pic­nic
trees to scale, creeks to ford, forts to build
a pirate’s trea­sure of pos­si­bil­i­ties

the promise of a sum­mer too short to con­tain
and after­noon of spring.