Double Dutch
©June 15, 2006 Heidi Kortman
All rights reserved.
Soprano voices ride the balmy breeze
In rhythmic chants that tell a childhood tale
And dandelions sprout beneath the trees
Old clothesline makes a sound quite like a flail.
The clap of soles on pavement echoes down
As whirring rope creates an empty space
While working mothers listen without frowns
Remembering their playground speed and grace.
“Hot peppers!” someone calls, yes, it’s a dare.
In pairs, they stand while others time each leap.
The numbers rise; there is no time to spare,
The rhythm’s exaltation they must keep.
And hardships of adulthood do not clutch
When afternoons are filled with Double Dutch.
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