Golden Warriors
Beverly Kemmerling
A quiet country afternoon;
Mom and Dad are napping.
Flies buzz softly while chickens
Scratch and chuckle in the yard.
Two small brothers grin at each other
Poised on the edge of the porch,
Cross their streams in golden arcs,
Flood an anthill, splash a beetle,
Wage war with an unwary chicken.
Too soon the guns are silent;
The warriors must retreat
As sunshine gently erases
Proof of their glorious feats.
|