SLEEPWALKING

II

It was a rustic campground in the yellow pine
Just a simple fire pit and gray wood plank picnic table
No water or toilet
In the slot across the rutted dirt road from us
A family pulls in with their oversized truck camper
Grabbing a quick afternoon feel of outdoor-ness

While the three children scamper off to explore
The parents fire up the screaming gas generator
Pull out the gear with propane stove, tablecloth
Dinnerware, napkins, camp chairs and a braided rug
To cover the dirty ground
No doubt enjoying the natural scene
Better than their own fenced backyard

When the hot dogs were cooked the children were called
The kids on the rug with their sodas
Mom and dad in camp chairs with their beer
They settle back then to watch the portable television

SLEEPWALKING

I

Down the sidewalk leading to the mall’s front door
The house sparrow flitted just beyond reach of the toddler’s
Outstretched tiny hands whose teetering efforts to touch
The bird was foiled again and again
A plucky game of chase
Full of mirth

A half dozen paces behind mother and father
Followed chatting back and forth
Watched ahead for their child’s safety
Yet blind to his simple play

Occasionally the little one would turn and smile
Giggle and flail his arms
When there was no response
He would shout and point at the wee bird

But the play was for him and the bird alone
The adults were too busy with themselves
Since their childhood games too had been ignored