The mother beast
cool twilight after a hot spring day. i hear the children & miss them. covered with doughnut makings i go to find them in the flooded field i hear them laughing at my looking. i think i know their game. "here piggy piggy here piggy piggy," i call their only answer, "we are not piggies." i look again silhouetted cross the ribboned sky their arms raised & curled like umbrella handles now curved up the sky one arm goes in front of their small bodies & one behind they clasp each other & march together -- magnificently. "come baby elephants," i yell," the sun is going down. you don't need the mud now. mama elephant will hose you down and feed you doughnuts." they come out of the field slowly & carefully. i make my arms a trunk & wack them gently toward the kitchen.