In Praise of a Trampoline in the Morning Rain

In praise of a trampoline in the morning rain I sing.

In praise of my boys’ slipping, jumping, wild, raw bodies contorting sans anchor-point, slamming down on polypropylene weave, flaking bits of skin and spit I sing. In praise of flinging micro drops of rain back up and (camera zooming in on water drops with Matrix slo-mo effect) vibrating them with concussive (camera back out to scene) prepubescent laughing, crying, laughing again I sing.

In praise of the reproductive capacity of the multicellular organism I sing.