Ready or Not
Despite a thousand warnings
from people who make it their
business to know,
the weather—
no matter the season—
is worse than
Gramma can ever remember,
and she,
(God bless her gentle heart)
has no employment
except to remember
her childhood,
a pleasant time when children
played giggle games like
hopscotch, marbles,
and hide and seek.
Her eyes closed tightly against
the bark of a shade tree in the
front yard, she counted slowly—
“. . . 98, 99, 100. Here I come,
ready or not!”
so that others, forewarned,
hid amid silent suppressions—
until, muscles taut, ready for
the race back to the maple—
erupt like startled cheetahs
hiding behind the
neighbor’s gate.
. . . j
from the Childhood Remedy and Other Such collection
j's blog 