Bonsack

It was not the petting zoo my son was enthralled with
Out at the farm in Bonsack
It was not the piglets, not the goats
Nor the bunnies nor the cows
Only a moment he spent
In the kernel pit before wanting out
Or in the pumpkin patch before nursing
And though he has a love for tractors
Sitting focused at the wheel
Mastering the gears and levers at sixteen months
Though he rode with us on the hay wagon
With eyes wide for the pasture
It was in the corn maze that he screamed for his daddy
Not with fear
But with blooming vigor for the continual rush of life!
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