The Zebra In the Snow

I'd love to have a zebra .
to play Marco polo in the snow.
He'd laugh amid bare branches.
I'd call to him soft and low.

I'd never see his body,
white stripes a camouflage.
But when he snorted happily
I'd stop and see him in an age.

He'd win each game of hide and seek.
He'd win at zombie tag.
I never had a chance to shoot
when we played army stag.

I could hardly ever see
the striped bandanna that he waved
I'm sure he won capture the flag
because he was a little bit afraid.

I could only win at hop scotch
when he'd topple on the ground,
his four hooves in just one square,
my balance finally found.

At sunset, he would snigger
that the game was still afoot
and I'd look into the darkness
and see ghosts stripes quivering up.

His stripes flipped inside out then.
He was white with black stripes too,
a game for him of vision.
Instead, can we play Clue?

Sometimes I wish I still had a little kid.

Thanks for listening, jb