Safe at Home

This perfect April afternoon,

All green and golden,
Joy calls us to the familiar yard
Tilting up to the smiling woods.
We have a bat and ball
A grandfather for a pitcher
And a seven-year-old full of life
Who sends a fly ball into the sprouting lettuce,
Then races around an imaginary first base,
Stops at second,
And lies down in the uncut grass
On her back, arms spread wide
To count the blackbirds in the tall maple.
They may be calling to her, “Run, run!”
But she does not move,
Content to be there, young, joyful,
Laughing at such a life
In which we are always
Safe at home.
--Timothy Haut, May, 2013