I’ve got a quiverful of children.

The Bible calls them arrows

and me lucky

and I am.

Though I’ve a pretty good view

of the target, and pull the bow

the same way every time,

bends in the air

send the one a-high

and the one a-low

and dams back in

their beaver,

aquiver.

I duck myself when they circle around.

I practice.

I do practice.

But my son and my daughter

fly where they will.

Over and under but especially

under the hill,

they fly where they will.