I wake
wondering
if Jeb will ever
memorize
eight plus six
fourteen
he soon will be
and he won’t
care anymore
if I
watch him
attempt
skate board tricks
no more
hearing
“Mom! Ok, watch this one!”
right
now
I can stand
by the plumeria tree
observe
his goofy foot
push offs
and ramp jumps
while my head’s
half-way between
tomorrow’s oil change
and
tonight’s dinner
oh
the wake up call
from an eight year old
mom, watch this
dreams start
in the dark
reaches of the mind
corners
of the heart
where fingertips trace
outlines of shapes
formations felt
not yet seen
do you remember?
peer back
at the past
with the light
of the present
when you were a blind potter
kneading some dream
in the dark
only sensing
a time
when light
might
illumine
hoping miracles may happen
you were blind
but then…
see
your creation
the one
you
now
hold in your hand
friends and family
around the fire
stomachs full
our heads
tilting
toward night sky
all the celestial bodies
so vast
I have to stretch
remember
remark
remind
“this is no ceiling”
For the Archives 