Peering out my backyard plain beige sticks stand
6 feet tall smooshed together forming a fence. I laugh.
Miss Kemp’s fourth grade art class dances in my head.
Creamsicles and Fudgesicles drip down my sticky hand.
Other fences aren’t as tall. Popsicle fence confines a
rambunctious Labradoodle that jumped the shorter one.
His childish glee contained now by hints of youth.