Running up the hill, because I am told to.
There is a demand that I run, so I run.
Get to the top and high fives all around.
Air is crisp.
Clouds over the moon.
-who is this guy that I have in my hand?
-where does he live?
-what's that up there by the trees.
-I think his name is Walrus Man.
-I think he lives with his parents.
-It looks like a dinosaur.
I'm right! It is a dinosaur.
A Reedy Beedy!!
Now run down the hill!!
I am running.
Watch my step.
Watch his step also.
Someone has to because he sure doesn't.
"Watch where you're going!" I yell.
There is just a long, constant scream as we pound down towards the streetlight.
Now we are done.
Now there is a tiny warm hand gripping my fingers.
There are still clouds out, but they aren't over the moon.
The air feels wonderful in my nose, in my lungs.
There are more questions.
Many of them.
There is no time to answer them all so I don't try.
I pick and choose and think about other things as well as present things.
I don't even think that answers are needed.
They're not the point.
This is just how we do what we do.
I am contemplating some such thing, a question or statement
when all of a sudden there is a smack on my back.
And the race to the door is on, crossing the yards of wet grass.
Birds eye sees a man chasing a boy in the night.
Birds ear hears giggling on the crisp wind.