wandering through a flooded yard, dragging their feet
through the irrigation,
they laugh and run in the fresh, warm air,
soaking themselves up to
the kind the kids from the desert oohed over
in a foreign world of green
the ones they picked and gave to their mom,
who was just as parched and brown on the inside
as they were.
we all need watering, some days.
even the mulberry trees,
reflecting off the water
through the layer of grass and leaves
floating on the surface,
seem happy to drink in the coolness
as the little sherbet-clad girl
dances around them.