today’s adventure and tantrum time:
winter coats catapult themselves
down horn hill bypassing security
like gum drops getting smaller
melting in bath water by mistake
racing to a slow finish surrounded by play time’s bars

cheeks fall prey to
perfect red circles
due to fallen hoods
the view from the top of the hill:
fleeting and fleeing

one chose not to participate
instead, thrusting the plastic red dish
solo, rider-less
down the small mountain

an amazed smile
emerged on his little face
watching the red ramp waiver and float
and crash down to blanketed earth
I wanted in on this secret- a mystery and pleasure
only he could feel
and he did it again and again