Like A Lark Arising At Dawn
for Cindy
Our son has taken to birds.
To their dawn songs along the East River
He rolls sustained gurgles in persistent imitation.
To their noon flight from rhododendron to terrace rails
He excitedly flings his arms up and down.
To their poking perambulations disturbing the garden gravel
He fills his head and studies his shadow gliding over theirs.
To their dusk retreat under the eaves of wooden watertowers
He stares concentrating until his eyes slowly close.
Our son has taken to birds.
Page(s) 38
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