We are having cambric tea
at a wobbly card table
set out on my best friend’s lawn –
she and I and her visiting cousin,
Marian, a bug-eyed girl,
proud and cross,
who kind of scares me.
Through the hedge
from our back yard
comes my four-year-old brother,
Peter, bearing a plate of cookies,
to join in the party.
“Get out,” says Marian.
“Go away,” says my friend.
And I just sit there,
recording the scene forever:
the little boy turns, confused,
as the plate tips, cookies fall,
and stumbles – I am silent –
back home through the hedge.