Diana Noble        Coral Springs         (Sally Naylor)
The Boy

He displays contradiction: a fusion of tears and laughter. 
A sun-shower, fragmented in raindrops & flecks of light. 

He scatters butterflies yet nurtures 
spring flowers. With a shift of the breeze: 
here then gone. 

He mixes, then molds a spectrum of Play-Doh
melding his tones with precision. 
Colors each day: sculpting 100 vermillion 
monsters, chameleons, and blue guitars.

A silken parasol, strong yet delicate, imprinted
by weathered days, unfurled, as he parades 
his ribs and stretchers, how he
clasps the shaft tightly and shelters from tempests.

When closed, he’s a Billy club braced for danger. 

A wild mushroom, he sprouts quick as weeds.
Nourished by a forest, blooming in the decay,
he labors to climb up among great oaks and fern.

Spawned in searing heat, a raw gemstone, 
cast by the confines of imagination, he leans 
into the flames then facets himself anew.