Acoustics

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For years I’ve walked the little city blocks
filled with houses square and oblong,
small, large, and tiny hermit crab shells

I’ve listened to the birds fill the spring morning
and evening with their songs,
and I’ve heard their echoes

There is a canopy,
a corridor of brick
and vinyl, slate,
and composite,
asphalt, grass, and concrete

Pythagorean ratios and integers
float in this air;
A Vitruvian reverberation smacks
the dome of this humid atmosphere

and rounds out all these hard lines
of living and life
and our round hermit crab shells
tighten, send us out and beyond

and into the next.

To my Youngest Son on His 4th Birthday

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My dear boy,

You are a gift, a compact, sturdy,
unbridled, whirlwind of loving kindness.
I love when I am caught up in your world
and your awareness, your forgiving and your forgetting.
You are big, and your name is heavy, borne by kings and lifted by saints,
lived by farmers and loved by friends, you are beloved,
you are a grand vision unfolding in the fields of our love,
ripening in the heat of God’s plans, resting in the roots of earth’s love,
a gift to me and to the world.
May you be always at rest on the wings of Christ’s love,
nuzzled beneath God’s grace and covered by Our Lady’s mantle.
May you be blessed, forever and ever and always.