The Wild Children outside, hair flying, untied and unkempt, too long even.
Climbing the tree with the ivy hanging down. Little one yelling and now crying.
Neighbors wondering -- then sighing. A yell of frustration and then muffled whining.
Isn't there school today? Yes, but this crew is feeling free and loose. Mother is
biding her time til the next door flung open-wide ends her quiet space inside.
Boys scheming, sister longing, wishing and resigning. Not big enough to stay
and play, moping whimpering - sent away.
Whose are these? the wild children belong to ease.
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