long live boyhood

Summer drifts toward the promise of fall, each sunset a minute or two sooner than the last. 
The boys play hard till dusk and then act like it's a horrible punishment, having to come inside. They basically spend the day doing things that make me want to close my eyes and cross my fingers.
Limping around in theatrical opposition to bedtime, the long edge of a city park the boundary of their kingdom, I am enchanted with and beleaguered by it all.
I try to soak it up the way a camel stores water, the cherry orb sinking through gauzy curtains of light, the protest of tired, dirty boys.


rht said...

Jenni -- if they take after Andy -- and they do -- they'll never lose the best of their boyish tendency toward living each day to the fullest!

Poppy John said...