Topple
Oct 12 2008


I watch a small child
toddling down the path
holding a big black umbrella
over his head.
His chubby little legs are bowed,
and he takes tiny steps
pigeon-toed,
tipping from side-to-side
hanging-on for dear life.
And the umbrella tips as he goes,
leaning precariously
almost overwhelming him
— a great black bird of prey
hovering.

From a distance
the umbrella seems self-propelled,
like some bed-time story come to life.
But then I spot the proud little man
valiantly keeping it aloft,
showing-off
how grown-up he is.

I hope it’s calm,
or a good breeze, and he’d be off,
laughing uproariously all the way
— a boy’s whole short life
spent looking up;
now towering over
the rest of us.