Curtain Call

tonight, my son is king of the birds in his last middle school play a noble black hawk with outstretched wings and gentle eyes whose ever watchful gaze is not unlike our own his mom and I holding hands in the dark knowing one day soon he will fly away


your hands are raised through the moonroof small, sure wings on rushing wind you are smiling, raving about choir practice singing me show tunes from bygone movies my hands are at 10 and 2 eyes fixed on the darkening road it's my job to steady the car while you soar among the stars

day and night

often, after a long night, we rejoice at daybreak as if the sun leapt over arching blackness to rescue us from despair but the sun doesn't leap— it is the cursed earth, restless Sisyphus, which pushes us from darkness unto light and back again


out back the blue Adirondack I neglected to put away for winter, slowly is filling with snow in summer I often sit there late into the evening looking up, to behold the beckoning Moon but tonight that luminous white light has abdicated her starry throne to grace my chair, unexpectedly: beholding me

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