Look, Mama, she said,
I think I see a hawk.
And just like that, the ducks,
who had been so happily nibbling
under our bird feeders,
disappeared to parts unknown.
The yard became quiet,
as squirrels took to their dens.
Sparrows fled and even
bossy jays could not be found.
Her limbs have lengthened,
and I’m surprised when I look at her
and see her creamy flesh
stretched out over her frame, and hear
her voice sing my name, and I wish
this moment were a marble I could
pick up with irritation from the carpet,
and slip into my pocket.