He couldn’t have been more than five,
when the summer heat had left little alive.
Around our place and within our minds
if only moisture’s respite could we find.
My dear husband had cautioned our joy:
“No playin’ in the creek, Sonny Boy!”
He trudged back to his many chores,
while I resumed my list for the store.
Dripping off the roof drowned the sounds,
yet there was a familiar shriek I found
in my ears and tugging for my attention.
Was that the neighbor’s dog? Muddy?
Looks to be small human legs in wet jeans
not the furry coat of beast could be seen,
It was our boy amid the soil and grit
his smile bright with delight of water spilt.
Poppa scooped him up, holding near his dampness
muttering mostly to himself, “What am I to do with ya?
when my orders have meant so little, don’t ya know!”
The child replied, “Why you’ll just love me more so!”
And so we did!
~ Ruby Edge
