dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: growing

We are born polka-dots
Light pink spots for toes and cheeks.
Weeks of cribs and dangling shapes
Leave us spinning like pinwheels,
We feel breeze and bugs crawling,
Sunshine and hugs, and sprawling out,
We spread our colors around
Giggle sounds, as beach balls,
Tapped by older, happy hands, we float
Down to a perch among the shrubs,
Our shiny surface rubbed by flowers as we sit as garden globes
Until we grow continents and oceans
And are set in motion like the earth itself
In a room inside until our spinning charade
Squeezes and fades us into a single pushpin,
A marker on the map that used to be our sphere,
But plastic, seared and deflated,
We can resume our place.


Through words and stone immortalized,
These privileged lovers
And stubborn sons,
Surely thousands strong by now,
Puncture the earth
Like birthday candles on a cake,
Sticks of wax waiting to be melted
Just slightly by controversial heat
Then removed
From their sticky sweet platform
By eager,
Growing fingers
That fill their spaces
With newer,
Fresher faces
Plus one every year.