— David Eisbach
The little blue-eyed boy
with flaxen hair, tan corduroys,
blue shirt and matching sneakers
came running toward me.
His shoes slapped the concrete.
His body was subject to awkward jolts,
like a novice in a foot race.
His smile was just short of laughter.
Pure excitement streamed from his face
with joy enough to pull a chariot to the stars.
Too small to drink, he pressed
the fountain’s button,
wet his fingers and stuck them into his mouth.
Without ever looking at me,
he spun and raced back to his mother,
his grin still intact.