love is like a mass of liquid droplets
and frozen crystals falling
new, young, old,
spring, summer, fall, winter
“Mom, come here, Mom,
come here a second, Mom.
Look out the window. D’you hear that?
Bird? D’you hear that bird, owl? Shhh, listen.”
Then he tells me,
“Your lap, Mom. I want to sit on your lap, Mom.
Fall asleep on you. Ok?”
“Yes, coming. Just a moment.
I see, yes, I hear it. Mourning dove, I think.”
Then I tell him,
“Ok, sure, yes, come on.
Ok. I love you, too.”
And I listen to every word he ever tells me,
over and over and
again. And I think about being held,
and always being held, about
tenderness and constancy,
and fear, and having someone to run to.
And I think about blessings, and being blessed.
Shoes come off, then the socks,
stepping lightly o’er the rocks.
Wind picks up, kids run wild,
flying through the grass awhile.
Sitting down, looking up,
slowing now to fill the cup.
One line here, one verse there,
meaning, meaning everywhere.
Stop and write some poems.