The Parade of Wildness

Writer’s Cramp Prompt (1,000 words or less in 24 hours):

I keep finding items around the house that are not where they're supposed to be: beaters from the mixer, pens, pieces of paper, crochet hooks. Write a story or poem about how the house got this way. (You may write any reason, but mine is a one year old on the rampage.)

The Parade of Wildness

Two beaters from my mixer
sleep soundly beneath a bed.
The puppy’s rawhide bone
has jumped in with the fish.

Pens of red, blue, and black
are lined up like little soldiers,
eager to fight a dragon
yet each now silently waits.

Watch out for that paper
tossed up into the air;
not by a storm or twister
but by a whirling dervish.

A small orange chunk of cheese
hides inside a drawer of socks.
You’re probably guessing
it’s gremlins, elves, or brownies.

But it’s only a toddler
rearranging his world;
like any good general
he’s ordering his forces

With a wobbly, flat-footed walk
and a slightly drooling smile,
I pick him up and tickle him,
pretending that I’m stern,

but what I’m really thinking
is just how lucky I am
to experience the Parade of Wildness,
with this two-year old, my son.


(28 lines)