the parents gather at the edge
of the fence.
leaning against the rail
as the summer sun lingers
in the blue sky turning dark.
a new season has begun.
the children are on the field,
small and wild in their red
jerseys, red hats, the other
team in white and green. cleats
and gloves, everything new.
the ping of metal bats
against a ball is rare, though
the parents scream and encourage
them with cheers and applause.
some kids, just a few,
have wandered away
into the woods where a cold
stream moves, full of rocks,
fish and frogs, turtles
hoping not to be seen. they
have found a quiet place
where their parents ambitions
have no part in who they
might become.
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