They were the puddle kids –
One, two and three –
Ice gripped in patches;
Sleet slathered over potholes.
After the rain and after the melt,
Puddles pitted sidewalks
And snow mounts lay on the side.
The children hopped down in mirth,
And my poor coat virtually trembled.
On their way, they jumped
Into the puddles, with both feet,
Splashing muddy brown droplets
On the unwary walkers,
Streaking hems and coats,
Socks, shoes and boots.
Raucous laughter followed the splashes
And delight and mischief
Equally brightened their faces of innocence.
What grandmother could resist,
But smile, however irate she was,
Ruefully watching the muddy prints
On her hems and coat, socks and shoes.
*Inspired by my grandchildren:Aliyah and Elijah
(There is one more, but she wants her privacy)