Beside the stroller,
Petting zoo’s spectacles temporarily forgotten;
Wheat-brown palms find their destination;
Protuberant pupils slant in concentration;
Tongue set between taut lips.
No miner’s tools—no light necessary;
Digging deep with precision—cache in the offing;
Explores, pinpoints, delivers.
Bashful mirth—victory coo; a toddler’s smile;
He extends a stout fingertip, smothered moist, green algae;
Offering exhibition of his treasure, nonpareil.
Scrambling like a firehouse
twirling down poles a’ clamoring
If theses shapes don’t go in soon
I’m goin’ to get a’ hammering
The alarm compliments the squealing screeching tires
I hurry to complete the task before the time expires
The wobbly and goin’ a’rollin’ stone
Falls into the circular shape of its own
Better be a’hurryin’ cause times a runnin’ out soon
Place it next to the star, slide in the crescent moon
Tick, tick! Yes, make it quick!
Will I make it in the nick?
Oh no, the square, it’s home, oh where?
If I can’t find it then—oh look, its there!
So urgently, oh the polygonal urgency!
Pick up the pace, this is an emergency!
The last two shapes are swallowed and contained
Times up! The piece pop! Let’s do it all over again
the sieve and the sand 