Month of Poetry, Day 3

Ice Breakers

I glance out the side window of my old blue Volvo
To see my three boys' bright winter hats and coats--
blue, black, orange, yellow, green--
illuminating the opalescent morning light

They have trekked across the matted brown grass of the field
And, sticks in hand, surround a puddle of  frozen  snowmelt
Like pirates around a chest of treasure

This is the whole of their world--
A field, a puddle, breath clouds joining morning mist,
New ice shattering under the blows of their sticks

I turn onto the road and pass the big yellow bus
Steaming out of the clouds to take them away.