They didn't come prepared — bare shins, sneakers.
The man's got a puppy, a young son in tow.
It's spring, morning's a wind full of questions.

Past the ball-field, green narrows then forks
into overgrown trails. Which to take,
when one ventures in shorts and sneakers?

The pup leads a way, sniffing pine duff,
brambles, a feather. Where are we going?
the boy asks. Morning's a wind full of questions.

What can a father say? He's only just heard
of a hidden pond, blackberries ripening —
and they've come here bare-shinned, in sneakers.

Brambles scratch. The boy finds cedar tepees.
Who made them, how long ago?The pup's off
testing a morning-wind full of questions.

Indians summered here, but now they're gone.
Where does anyone go? A father knows —
venturing with boy and dog, with bare sneakers
on this morning's wind, full of questions.


© by Taylor Graham.
Used with the author's permission.