Skit-scat down the sidewalk
when the rain falls sideways
from the back-lit sky . . .
Sun awakens, rolls out
from the blanketed clouds.
And the girl’s hair,
bounces and weaves . . .
glints gold ahead of us.
My broad shouldered brother
stands next to me, stands over me
with his corn silk hair,
hanging haphazard and wild
across his forehead.
Our feet fling, flip-flopped
and flimsy under us,
As we saunter down the
walk, whistling and
aimless, on our
way home.