Sticks

Two children, one a toddler and one elementary school aged, climb a small hill.
Stick-finding mission.

There are sticks at my front gate.

A collection of
Long, short,
Thick, thin,
Straight, crooked,
Natural brown and sun-bleached white
Sticks.

They sit in a pile,
Or are strewn across the drive,
Depending on the day and time.

And say—
A Small Child Lives Here.

Published by helenkamakura

Helen is a Canadian writer and innkeeper based in Kamakura, Japan, where she lives with her Japanese husband and two children. If money became obsolete, she would happily accept peaches, fresh peas, and sun-warmed cherry tomatoes in exchange for her labour.

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