American Daydream

On a line, the sheets hung And were warmed by the sun As mother leaned back in her straw lawn chair For a breather. Beside the patio, with a candy-red wheel barrow A metal stick And pure brawn Father mixed wet cement for the foundation Of their white picket fence. A ways off, charcoal garden gates swung open From a light push And Ricky chased his sister A plastic worm dangling from his small hand. In a few years, father and mother’s fence base From heat expansion, would crack Because, in their neighborhood Over half of the inhabitant’s fences Already crumbled. But they hoped Their foundation could be repaired For their children’s safety. And they hoped That hope wasn't futile.