I stopped the car 
to let the children down 
where the streets end 
in the sun 
at the marsh edge 
and the reeds begin 
and there are small houses 
facing the reeds 
and the blue mist in the distance 
with grapevine trellises 
with grape clusters 
small as strawberries 
on the vines 
and ditches 
running springwater 
that continue the gutters 
with willows over them. 
The reeds begin 
like water at a shore 
their pointed petals waving 
dark green and light. 
But blueflags are blossoming 
in the reeds 
which the children pluck 
chattering in the reeds 
high over their heads 
which they part 
with bare arms to appear 
with fists of flowers 
till in the air 
there comes the smell 
of calmus 
from wet, gummy stalks.