Blue Bunny

My man’s afraid of bears.

But it’s a mountain,
and the real bears are
far, far, away from the guided paths,
where kids and their parents
explore the zoo without fear,
only wonder, and the only
brown bear is behind bars
with his neighbors, the Vultures
(I counted 20+ big black ones)

Afterward checking out 
the remains of Ft. Clinton 
and seeing El Coyotes
pace nervously in their cages,
we reached the pool area
(so blue and full)

Where Blue Bunny double Popsicles
(mine orange, his grape)
cooled us down
on a hot, dusty bench,
right outside of 
Walt Whitman’s statue.

I am reminded of 
long, sweet summer trips
with the Scouts and my family;
I wished that my niece and nephews 
would someday see this place,
as well as possible future children 
I can only invent in my head;
we would point out the animals
and marvel the history
on the Appalachian Trail,
stopping to eat Popsicles
and smelling the barbecues
on the way back towards the shore.

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