Poetry Magazine
The Children
Children grow in secret. They hide themselves in the depths and darker reaches of the house to become wild cats, white birches.
One day when you’re only half-watching the herd as it straggles back in with the afternoon dust, one child, the prettiest of them all, comes close and rises up on tiptoe to whisper I love you, I’ll be waiting for you in the hay.
Shaking some, you go to find your shotgun; you spend what’s left of the day firing at rooks and jackdaws, uncountable at this hour, and crows.
One day when you’re only half-watching the herd as it straggles back in with the afternoon dust, one child, the prettiest of them all, comes close and rises up on tiptoe to whisper I love you, I’ll be waiting for you in the hay.
Shaking some, you go to find your shotgun; you spend what’s left of the day firing at rooks and jackdaws, uncountable at this hour, and crows.
Source: Poetry (June 2011).
Poem Categorization
SUBJECT Living, Youth, Love, Desire
Poetic Terms Prose Poem
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