They’re holding hands, dressed in flannel.
The boy, around three, wears a one piece:
reindeers, candy canes in a zigzag pattern,
parents in plaid—mom red, dad blue—
boy has a hood, too. It’s Christmas,
even in LA we’re shivering.
They run across the court, balls flying fast,
players annoyed. Why not use the path,
why cross those lines into the face of danger,
but there they are, a family, fingers threaded,
laughing, lifting the boy into the air.