Her face in a goofy scrunch,
She squirms from his lap and his fishing story
To race for the swing.
C’mon Grandpa, push!
His lumbar aches and the carpal tunnel burns,
But he grins broadly, knowing he can’t resist.
He bounces the tire a few times to test the nylon yellow rope.
She giggles, her front teeth gone with the tooth fairy.
He pulls her slowly back, then jogs forward and gently releases her high above him…
(Underdogs, they call them)…
And she thrill-screams as her wispy corn-silk curls bounce,
Her toes tickling the sky
On a barefoot rainbow afternoon.