Poetry (see Also Stories In Verse)
Like taxis at curbside
they're waiting for hire.
Does nobody need them
to put out a fire?
A hydrant-like doorman
in red, buttoned up,
regards with suspicion
an innocent pup.
On days when it heatwaves
us kids scamper out
in swimsuits. Then hydrants
unscrew, spurt, and spout.
Little you
little wonder
Little wish
gentle thunder
You are mighty
you are small
You are ours
after all