The Future Child

The Future Child

by Margaret Jennings

She grows holding snails in hands made merry

with mud that is a natural wherry

for games, dirt castles, mud tastes that delight,

all things that wriggle she tries to hold tight.

 

The stones that clack and the smells that rupture,

all is joy in this child filled with rapture,

the insects that nip, the things that tickle,

a woodlouse curls tight, oh, what a pickle.

 

A stick pokes a worm, see how fast it flees,

another worm twists and resists her squeeze,

Look Mummy, I’ve got a world in my hands,

all sorts of things in a magical land.

 

Mummy joins in and snuggles down to look

rapt in those things the world nearly forsook.

 

Inspiration: This poem was inspired by the joyfulness of watching children at play – especially when they are getting mucky!

 

Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay

 

Author of the poetry chapbook We Are The Lizards, Margaret Jennings also writes short stories and plays. Margaret was longlisted in the Bridport Prize first novel award.