"Ode to the Sprinkler" by Gary Soto
There's no swimming pool on our street.
Only sprinklers on lawns.
The helicopter of water slicing our legs.
We run through the sprinkler, water on our lips.
Water dripping from eyelashes.
Water like fat raindrops that fall from skinny trees when you're not looking.
I run like a monkey in my orange swimming trunks, jumping up and down, pounding the mushy grass with my feet.