Child’s Play

The clouds roll overhead
casting shadows at my feet
if I were a bird
without a tree
I could follow along
for a while sequestered in the cool
calming light
until the cloud dissipates leaving
me once again
in the hot blinding sunlight

Sweating I saunter over
and sit upon the stump
beloved grandfather’s grave
roots underground
stretching outward in all directions
rotting into the soil
fertile ground for a seed

This evening I’ll fetch the spade
turn the soil and
plant the seed
bring water
tend and care for the sapling
loving it
hoping that the children
or the children’s children
or the children’s children’s children
will one day dance and sing
laugh and play
or lie still and listen
to birdsong and whispering wind
flowing through grandfather’s
outstretched branches