Standing in a field
with big sky
while rain threatens
the children in the playground.

Swiftly thoughts
charging from here to there
and back yet again.
It isn't a matter of relax.

Slow poke in the ribs
that knocks the wind
across the open grass,
moving towards the horizon.

Play is an unforgotten
movement that pushes me,
and who is to say
what is or isn't play.