The uncles are on park green bench,
Steeped in macro level human affairs.
Little fingers they had held on tight
For years, are beyond the green sea,
Practicing greenbacks ,stirring green
Envy in neighbors not green-carded.
Tiny fingers, now ringed and stubby,
Uphold a dad’s right to green bench.
Dads have a right to the big picture.
Grass is green this side of their sea.