Wednesday, March 16, 2005


Sun-baked boy
Sapling legs and arms
Skin brown leaves
Yours are not the fawn's wobbling hooves
Nor the cub's oversized paws;
They are the steps of the ghost of a man.

I see you sometimes listening
Mouth agape, eyes unfocused on this world,
Gazing at a far off place
I call your name, always twice or thrice,
Calling you back;
I want to ask you what you hear
Instead I tell you to learn about things
To swim, to add, to clean, to sit,
To play, To hug me

If I could leave you alone
I think you would lower your ear
To the ground
And hear what the earth says.


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