May 12, 2014

Third Place Free Verse

She ran in the wind,
baby’s fine hair like dandelion’s aged fluff,
shapeless legs carrying inquisitiveness.

Touching each blackened daisy,
a butterfly barely out of cocoon
plays in joyful retreat.

Tiptoes, sure of surprise,
eyes, astounded at defeat,
heart, determined to win.

Turning. Amazed at time-moved distance,
terror grips the 3-year-old heart.
A curtain of tears fall.

Washed red, saucer eyes plead.
“Daddy.” “Daddy!” “Daddy?”
No way to understand aloneness.

Giant limbs appear.
Strong arms wrap fear in love.
Providence in a field of wheat.