Social Studies The night the baby died in her father’s arms trying to cross an ocean, our children slept. It is easy to list off platitudes. To write down every time we cupped a spider in our hands and let it out the door. There are many poems about the seasons, less about the time it takes to bury another child. It’s true— history has taught us to be good to children, to treat the earth as a living place. To stand on the side of every man and every woman who begs to land in the same green grass as you.
