The children circle the adult table
Like movie indians around the white shirt wagons,
Yelling, whooping, performing, letting it all out
With physical dexterity.
The wagons, enclosed, guarded, keeping it all in
With verbal dexterity.
Off in a corner of the lawn a young girl
Stands, watching with blank face.
The filling observation of a child growing
To be harvested in old age.
I do not know if she is empty with hate or fulled with love.
I only hope she will learn that it wonderful enough
to live with all senses open.
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