Visit from the Children
Today I gave them a penny each to wish into a pond.
My daughter, the Elder, quick was her penny into
the water. My son, who is less familiar,
shut his eyes hard as kids do before a wish, as if
concentration led to magic for sure. The amusement
park’s rope bridge, him hanging half through, he finally
allowed his small fist to open. Unlike me, he is right-
handed. The penny turned some before it sliced in,
before its sashaying downward dance. Tonight
they’re asleep in the cool room. For the second night
in a row I have sung them to sleep, and each time
I sang the words again or love I slurred them
as I enunciated dark, quiet, fallen.
Copyright © 2005 George Manner
About the poet