Poem January 8, 1979 ISSUE

Home—free!

Gloria Clements

Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred!Ready or not, you must be caught!"Its" warning singsong thundered.Hidden from view and half distraught,I silently challenge that "must,"till daring to leave my hiding place,I move to the next with trust.

"It" spies me now from outer space,But I elude "It," and we race!I touch the elm and shout with glee,Oly oly ome-free!When I touch "home," "It" can't touch me:I'm wholly, wholly, home—free!

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