he cycles behind me
and at times in front
on my old walking trail
my new convert
a way for my bicycle!
on it he feels very free
to litter it with his voice
a noise of joy of a six year old boy
but with a precision
that school teachers use!
a mosquito, a daddy-long-legs
a cricket, a butterfly
now a dragon fly
before stopping to stomp
stamping hard his foot
proclaiming his hatred for ants
arguing they are fire ants
further forcefully announcing
they sting and i must kill the queen!
he complaints too, and loud
the litter on the ground
a sure way, he says, to kill
the city of champions
pausing suddenly for the dead mallard!
he believes in picking
the lifeless bird to put
in the way-side garbage
a bin in which his grandfather
earlier, dropped the broken bottle!
finally he arrives to play
to overcome any leftover boredom
he throws grass blades and dry weeds
into the pond tricking ducks with fake food
from where he will return home!
© henry victor 20.08.2015
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