Everything small is just a small version of something big

Summer, linden county park
Half the population beach-bound
Children doggedly swim
The maybe four-feet deep out the barrier allowed

But we haunt just a mile away
Tracing the faded white pant from a cross country track meet

When we come into an open field
I am reminded of summer camps spent as a cub scout

This is where they hid the "golden nuggets"
(Rocks spray painted and scattered throughout the park
Like the san francisco gold rush was in our backyard)

I bent down, hands in the soil
And wondered how deep ten years would bury
Any unfound pieces

I think I almost expected to find one