OF BEE STINGS & GREATER THINGS

A sunny Saturday morning ---
Imaginations soar like heroes through the sky.
We are Batman and Robin, Captain Marvel or Mighty Isis
Setting out to right the wrongs of a world gone awry.
Our small world of Flack Street awaits the wonder of our improvisation.
Down the street we wander --- NEVER aimlessly;
We must have purpose to justify such greatness.
Our challenge lies in a smelly, silver can by the corner, fenced yard.
To free a shaggy, blue mutt from ruin and decay...
We are called to revive its essence.
We can do it! We are Batman and Robin!
I am Robin (never Batman, I am too small).
Lifting the great, tin lid, we hear a yelp of recognition
And feel a sour tongue wet our cheeks with kisses.
Turning for the Batmobile, I feel a sharp sting between my toes,
But Robin doesn't cry.
It is a wasp sent by the Joker.
Maybe Robin does cry (this time it is allowed)!
Batman is strong and silent as he lifts me and "old blue" in his arms.
Off we go on the long trek home...
Batman, a true hero indeed!

Lisa Smith Pomeroy