BABY-SITTING JENNY
We stroll the park, popping snowberries with our fingers
As I did when a child along the shady drive
Of my best friend’s house. We’re pleased to find
Ripe Concord grapes hiding under leaves
That vine the walls she loves to walk on. In the canvas
Swing her small bottom fits my hands
Like a teacup as I lift and send her soaring.
She is old enough to pump herself once
She gets going. We rescue a daring toddler
Who crawled up the slide as a kitten climbs a tree,
Unable to back down. Faster than she expects
Jenny rides the slick steel to a sandy
Landing. She tries it again. We follow pigeons
To the soda stand, and seagulls lead us to the beach
Speckled at low tide with perambulating periwinkles.
They single foot among the Irish moss and sea lettuce
Where clusters of mussels congregate like Portuguese families.
Seven geese drift by in a low-flying convoy
Nattering about the scarcity of minnows. Jenny splashes
Ashore to dump her bucket on a sand patty.
The day is opalescent and fragile as fine crystal
Or the beauties she blows on her soap bubble ring.
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