I watched

from the kitchen window
as one of the neighbor children
hesitated by a puddle in our driveway,
holding a bright blue plastic
Tyrannosaurus rex.

With that swift motion
of creatures who sense
they’re being watched,
he stood the beast in the puddle,
then quickly plucked it out.

“Wait,” I meant to call
after him, “that’s a good puddle
for a dinosaur,”
but he was gone
before I reached the porch
to tell him so.