Our footsteps are not in sync.
Big feet moving fast and with purpose.
Little feet dancing underneath.
The rhythm is uneven.
Choppy.
Jerky.
Until the (unexpected) loud clanging of metal saucepan on stove brings the dance to a sudden halt.
The dancing continues outside.
Tiny feet moving alone while hunting for treasures.
Green things, brown things, round things, smooth things.
An extension of our favourite game...
What do you think we'll find today?
Something red?
Something soft?
Something long?
Something small?
The backyard becomes a stage to a song of squeals accompanying that dance.
The bright plastic basket is filled with their finds.
The little dancing feet return.
And on a table centered with colourful treasures, dinner is finally served.
I love coming to your blog, and reading your wonderful posts, you take such beautiful pictures. Thanks so much for sharing.
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful piece of poetry! And LOVE the pics!
ReplyDeleteWarmest regards,
Joy
http://www.PardonMyPoppet.com
What a lovely post! And the pictures are just as pretty! :)
ReplyDeleteI love your poem and the accompanying photos.
ReplyDeleteI feel like I was hunting along with them - precious!
ReplyDeleteLeigh
www.oneandoneequalstwinfun.com
Thanks! :)
ReplyDeleteLove the narration in your post. It's so rich with descriptors :) And of course I love that last picture of your little one. She sure enjoys the backyard. Nature is sometimes the best teacher, for sure.
ReplyDelete