Under the Cover of Nightfall

Cool spring night.
Dark and quiet streets.
We approach the house with caution.

Throw up the rolls of toilet paper,
gift wrap the bushes and trees,
Litter the soft grass with plastic forks,
Mask car windows with post-its.
Mini army men on the sidewalk.
Warm, sticky syrup splatters the open driveway,
and rubber bands are stuck in the gooey mess,
with grains of rice,
leaving no room to move.

As we complete our master piece,
barking dogs fill the window.
The porch light goes on,
and we run faster than we had ever thought possible.

Back at the car,
down the block,
nothing stops our laughter.