I do nothing as unfumblingly as this middle school boy

readies himself to walk smaller kids across streets.

The aplomb on him! A utility pole’s his coat rack;

his patrol belt, electric yellow, is tucked into his jacket

neat as a pocket square; and he does not tangle—not at all—

with its shoulder sash. I envy him his competence,

his steady hands. But not like I crave the resolve

exquisitely suited to the simple steps of a fateful task.