Tadpoles

The beach is closed these days

The place I took the children to play 

On those days when the air felt stagnant 

And the neighborhood stood still

I pass it on most drives through town

A spit of dirt and borrowed sand 

Facing a forgotten pond

The bath house neglected, unused for decades

The only life,

The creatures that live below.

Those summer days,

I could sit near the water's edge and flip through magazines

With the children arms length

Watching them, watch tadpoles swim between their feet

Those summer days, 

I cried most days, in secret, as the children napped

Packing boxes against my will

Unmoored, drifting, unable to breath

All I wanted was to watch the children watch tadpoles.

Behind my sunglasses, tears at bay

The tadpoles darting like phantoms

Between waterweeds

Unmoored, drifting, gills flapping

Moving where conditions called them

I envied those tadpoles, trusting the process

One day their bodies transforming 

Able to breath air on land

Their lungs taking in oxygen for the first time

And me, tears at bay, gulping air between  sighs

                 Watching my children watch tadpoles swim between their feet

Watching, waiting, trying to find air