International Geographic

The tawny boys run through the woods and streets

Wherever they are raised, in rural realms

Of citrus Florida, where sunshine meets

Them under orange grove trees or under elms

In England—everywhere.  They build their dykes

Or dams, their toy structures from their minds.

They race along their small town lanes on bikes,

A whizz of sun struck reds and blues.  Kids’ kinds

Of mischief roil up and cruel laughs

Fill afternoons, but briefly, like the sparks

Of their intelligence.  Baboons, giraffes,

And bare-breast women, menace, waves with sharks,

These all appear in magazines that gloss

Their later dreams as brothers turn and toss.

by phillipw | Mar 7, 2021 | AM, BO, BR, CH, EN, FL, MA, PL, RU, SM | 2 comments