For David, On the Occassion of an Ordinary Day

How does it happen, that energy-
come-flying, that solid, solid mass
unseen and untouchable,
the wind off the sea at midnight,
heard and felt,
known,
irreplicable?

He is it; right now I know him –
unconditional and pure – God at
20-months-old. He is squishy,
at the same time strong,
and there is nothing stopping his selflessness
save his humanity.

He has not yet two years
in this temporal, spatial world
and certainly he knows frustration –
an inability to reach bananas from the counter,
the challenges of pushing star-shaped blocks into star-shaped holes;
but these things are manageable;

unwieldy is what to do with all this love,
this overarching mode of operation:
“I want you to know how I love you.”

I know it in my bones. It is palpable. Inside and out.

Learning Wonder

He grasps the peeled banana, gazing at it
the way we might sweep our eyes skyward over the harvest moon.
He is awestruck by oatmeal cookies,
shocked into giggles by being handed them two at a time.
Tractors.  Soup.  The afternoon breeze.
Tell him these are not reason for pause and contemplation.

I see him bounce over the floor, his stout body running on springs,
“lama-lama-lama!” he says reaching for the fruit high on the kitchen counter.
I peel the second half of the banana and watch him carry nothing
but the weight of wonder.