Ozone

reluctant poetry

Children run before the wind,
bright of face and light of limb,
taunting, never looking back,
snubbing clouds and thunder black.

And I have heard their wildish cries
underneath the soon-stormed skies.

Do they fathom, as they go, the danger?

Yes. They know. They know.

© M. Christine Tata

First published in Sojourn: A Journal of Interdisciplinary Arts, Volume 13, Number 2, Spring 2000