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| A sketch I did just the other day from a photograph taken 8 or so years ago ... seems like yesterday. |
There is something so endearing
about my little boy's silhouette,
delicate neck above narrow shoulders
and waist dwarfed by shorts
that flood past knees
and shade bare, dirt-dusted feet.
Last vestigates of pudginess
cling to lengthening limbs,
which increasingly take him far
from my protective reach.
The lake is deep, tree roots
snake in and out along the steep bank.
I warn him to watch his step,
"I will, Mom"; try not to hover
yet it's second nature. Sees me coming,
he runs, I shout, he laughs.
The darkness of the water scares me,
of course, he's oblivious,
fascinated as he is looking for turtles,
fish, dragonflies, and such.
Notice Mother Duck's having trouble
keeping her own swiftly growing chicks inline;
my mind scampers to my other five
(check text messages, see if they need me)
call my youngest to me, spread out blanket,
hold tight to this moment, this little boy.
by Margaret Bednar, January 7, 2020
This is posted with "dVerse Poets Pub - Meeting the Bar - Critique & Craft - Soliloquy"
