tiny swiftly pulsing
bodies layered together
grasses of the same field
wide dark eyes peering
from camouflage fur

my breath came quicker
my eyes flexed wider
pressed with my brother
in a child-sweat sticky
summer dirt huddle

your hands a measured
interruption gently replacing
the spiky green creeping
phlox hiding them from
fox and owl and curious fingers

hiding again those infant fragments
of wildness inexplicably sheltering
in this trimmed, mown, thoughtfully
planted suburban quarter acre
roamed by infants of another kind