Scoot

The children scoot and swim
A late summers weekend
Swinging without a care
Tumble down the hole
Learn to love
No one sees their tears
Crying in the wind
The best is yet to come
Winter is dead
It loosens its noose
Dancing leaves
Crumpled shoes
Salt like dread of long dark evenings
We bind our ears
Deafen our senses
Noise is too much
All just signs and symbols
We need them to find our way.