the edges of myself

the sound of my boy’s laughter

tumbling across the floors and ceilings

through the hallway and under the door–

the ease of three generations co-existing–

quiet certainty of a love that

has always been and will always be–

from latency a hand on the belly–

small kicks and a waiting game–

breathless anticipation for the first

of your children’s children.

 

time erupts and charges forward

as they grow and change– leaving all

to question how and why we

play this game– this space stretching

endlessly between us– these moments

fleeting and pure– their infrequency

allowing for their immensity–

 

acknowledging that non-linear is the

only piece of the equation that

makes sense– the only part of time that

speaks to my reason.  and in this now

i will settle into the resonance of the

sweet, growing openness of my

first born child’s joy.