nursery rhyme | hands in the garden

a porch breeze whooshes
your wishes
to me

as though i’m the genie
still shy to
be seen

for all my failings in
holding storms
back,

but you squeeze
my fingers

and whisper
“relax”,

granting the wish
i’d yet to
fulfill

i can’t spare you all harm
though i wish
to still.

in the shade of a
heat wave

you taught
me

that ponies can
still bite,

though we’re gentle
in the stable

and aspire
to play
fair,

buff an apple in
rosy dusk
blush
and

brush with
care.

on
a bench..

the sea is
swoll,

seagulls are
loud,

few kids are
here

to skip their
stones–

i hear them
squeal,

on
a bench

with much
to feel.