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