calmly stationed on
a pale blue sheet
I had laid out on the lawn
he paws
& tears at the grass
with his chubby fingers, though
they're thinning out into
crafty toddler hands
& he won't leave the blanket

at fourteen months, I'm beginning to
consider that he may already be
playing make-believe
our bedspread is our boat
& the wild unkempt grass is
the raging sea

I don't mind it
my allergies are going to
skyrocket when they finally mow it
I'd rather bask in its
lush glory
freshly grown in from
a very mild winter
thick with scent and color
Davy is growing accustomed to
it as well
heels digging into the soft soil
throwing tiny flowers every which way
& laughing


that boy's gonna need a bath