The girl scootched up the slide, but couldn’t quite make it.
The boy ran up the structure. He offered a little hand.
Ssssssstttrrretchh…
Clasp!
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Every door stands an open door:
our human settlements all temporary.We share together the incidental shore
and teach the young to tend the lamp’s wick,weary of anyone small enough to bar our entry.
“Visitors” by Joan Naviyuk Kane, via American Life in Poetry 887
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