i live next to a middle school field
i hear the coach ordering kids around
reprimanding them mostly
it's sad that their young thin
legs run over green spring grass
in such a regimented fashion
the coach barks more directions
his whistle is annoying and obnoxious
there is something so different in the way
a child blows a whistle and the way
an adult does
one sounds erratic and chain-less
and the other ordered and tethered
there's more than a touch of warden
in the chambers of the adult heart