The Hamilton’s Daffodil garden

Often we would sneak into the Hamilton’s Daffodil garden
hoping to catch a glimpse of them.
Their thighs were like springs which would propel them from one leaf to another.
We had gained enough experience to be able to catch them;
glass jars and fish nets were necessities on our 'missions'.
We would cut off their long translucent wings and tie their legs together;
"grasshopper racing" was what we called it.
Keeping them in our glass jars we would breed champions,
and nothing less.
Mother would often let out a terrified scream whenever we brought them into our room.
Father would hold his newspapers down and take a second look at what we were holding.
But don’t all fairytales come to an end?
Mrs. Hamilton had finally realized that we were sneaking into her lawn
"violation of privacy" she called it;
we never saw those yellow daffodil swaying with the wind again.
When time took it all away,
we only had a jar of grasshopper wings left.

~1999, Grasshopper racing~