On a hot day in the summer

you were one we went

to a pool in the exurbs where 

y’all splashed like tadpoles in the

shallows until both of you tired.

Dried, changed and seated in the stroller

you yawned along the bumpy ride

across the gravel lot.  

I took the wet things to the car,

and turned back to see three 

young boys approaching.

At six or seven they were itching

to prove their mettle to a baby 

and a four-year-old.

Out of their line of sight I saw 

their swagger and heard them

taunting your brother, who stood 

between them and you, his

chin and chest outthrust,

tight fists on hips, ready to take

on all three for your sake.

They scattered when I yelled, 

and your brother deflated like

swim floats with the valve opened.

We loaded and drove, and the two of you

slept hard all the way home.

Dana Hughes© 11.21.23