Delegation

a poem for winter storms

Benjamin Chasteen

NO KIDS FOR ME, the one who says
such rarely ever knows,
what bliss awaits the wiser parent
who shops at Trader Joe’s.

One New York City afternoon
before a winter storm,
a line that snaked outside the door
did panicked shoppers form.

An irksome game of bumper carts
screeched all throughout the store;
but through the noise the wiser parent
did ease across the floor.

No cart had he, nor were his arms
precariously full,
while all the rest—frustrated much?—
did swerve and push and pull.

How does he do it? What is his trick?
inquiring minds did ask,
the answer is, quite simply put,
he put his kids to task!

An eight-year-old to push the cart
winding side to side,
the three-year-old to sit within
and place the things inside.

All children are their parents’ hearts
walking outside themselves;
but also feet and hands to free them
to focus on the shelves.