By Rose Thomas Graham
I threw a harsh word at a lad today –
I caught him treading on my pansy bed.
He looked up quickly, then he turned his head.
And all at once blue skies, to him, were gray.
He was quite tall but not too old to play.
Then fast as fleeting clouds my anger fled.
Oh, could I but recall the words Id’ said
And quench my heart of its untold dismay.
We watched a blue jay flit across the sky,
Then slow and light beside a blossoming tree.
He scolded us, and as the saucy bird
Took off again, he screamed. I laughed. Then I
Looked at the boy, and he laughed back at me.
Our eyes forgave; there was no needed word.