“Hide-and-Seek,” Friend, July 1993, 30


    I have a little sister,

    Not much littler than me,

    Who first thing summer mornings

    Likes to play hide-and-seek.

    She spots a chirping cricket

    And stalks the bees that hum

    To where the wild dandelions

    Glisten in the sun.

    She gathers pretty rocks

    And cherries from the tree.

    She finds four-leaf clovers,

    But she never finds me.