toddler

the  wind  is strong,  gusty
and  turning cold. tonight
will  be dicey and nice 
to be inside but  the sun is
racing  between the  clouds
blues go fast as  leaves blown
down bayou drive and the blond
curls toss in the breeze. she watches
a  skittery  buggy oak leaf tumble
followed by  a  gaggle of  cousins
she  chases them like  ducks down
the asphalt. the wind ceases
the browned  dry  carcasses skid
to a stop.  she bends over and  looks
carefully  at it,  reaches  her
finger  out  gingerly and touches it
as  a  gust  blows it  over. she jumps
back, fearful,  like she  gets
when the turtles  emerge  from the pond
while we  feed  the ducks,  their  small
heads  poking up from the  water
pulling that hard round  house
behind  them, plodding up to where i hold
a piece of bread  out,  and she hops and  yips
and laughs at  the  strange  creature
that flips over in the  wind, begging  her to
come on, come on  down here look  what
we found  to play with and they whirl within
a dervish on the neighbor's patio
and  she screes, holds   out  her arms
raises her head up  to the  sky and  chases them.