As sweet as infant laughter is, the scream
of little kid frustration agitates
the afternoon and undermines the dream
of harmony that kinship incubates.
They’re harsh and selfish little guys, but cute
as cherubim. Their heads are big, their arms
are short, their hair and skin are new. They scoot
with clumsy grace; they dance like pixie charms.

Adorable, they draw and yet repel.
I want to be with them when I’m away,
but after half an hour in their spell
I feel as if to be alone I’d pay
a hefty ransom and I’d bargain hard.
They laugh again, and I’m back in their yard.