A loaded presence in a biscuit tin,
The rounds of sandwiches they found
Were cut and dried as hard as tesserae;
Forgotten in the airless wardrobe, play
Was innocent. Would they rebel
Against the bounds of home? But looking in
One day back early, neither made a sound,
And caught the two red-handed by the standard lamp,
Surprised with strawberry jam
Spread on the prairie carpet with the large sliced white,
Preparing in the makeshift camp
Provisions for the wilderness.
And where would they be going? ‘Well?’
But there was nothing they could say or do,
Taken totally unawares
By adults who could not address
The brilliant sofa-length canoe;
Two scouts bent toasting by the one-bar fire that night
Beside the warm clotheshorse wigwam
Sent hopping redskin up the frozen stairs.
