Today I saw a boy
go skipping down the street
light–footed as a mouse.
There had been intimations:
photographic:
wincingly in mirrors.
There was that time
the ticket woman failed
to ask ‘Are you Concessionary?’
There was the carol concert
when, aiming to join the choir
I chirped like an aged sparrow.
That boy today
dancing along the street
put it beyond a doubt.
© The Estate of Dorothy Cowlin 1998–2021. All rights reserved.