My children will never
Pick saskatoon berries in the thicket
Behind the apartment building down the street.

They will never build tree forts
And make believe they are superheroes,
Or animated story characters -
In the copse across the way.

There will be no snow caves
Or impromptu skating rinks in the backyard,
No sledding or snow angels
In abandoned fields.

No, my children will never.

I tried to find that saskatoon berry bush,
I tried to find remnants of tree forts,
Copses, and abandoned fields.

But there are houses, and buildings
and metal playgrounds there now -
In the places I was a girl,
In the places that made me.

My children will never
Be raised by those trees and briar bushes
And how will my children be made -

When I give them artificial green lawns,
And concrete jungle gyms to grow upon?