Overhead
a puff of perfume
a cloud
sandalwood vanilla
and sweet daydreams
My son points, “I see a bird.” And I find his talons,
grasping.
Daughter chimes in, I see a boat.” And I find the hull,
cracking.
The games we play
amidst broken waves,
their fingernails grasping
needful things.
Even on a beautiful day
there is scratching.
In the shade of pine trees
a playground
slick as apple slices
my red haired children
spread a blanket
fruitful grins
the first day of summer vacation.
© 2022 | K.Hartless
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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