Eldest/Youngest

Eldest

Tall and long-limbed, you keep unfolding upward
like a tree, like a backwards bit of origami.
Daily I hold my breath in wonder
that what was hidden in those wide, child's cheeks
and sly, snorting laughter
became such a dark, shaggy-maned horse.
You are prone to wandering alone
in open fields, in crowded streets,
and feeling perfectly at home.

Son you show me all my sharp edges, sharp tongue.
The fault lines of a hundred generations
and their triumphs too
lie in your strong shoulders, your unbent back,
but you are always and first belonging to no one 
 but yourself
a comet, a transiting body, different in every moment.
Your appearance an event not forgotten,
as full of portent as any hopeful astrology.

May there be gifts, my love
a thousand gifts on your path,
despair and love deeply felt,
your light a zenith, a circle of warmth
to draw others into your wisdom, your protection,
your inherent goodness.

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Youngest

When you fit against my body
both of us tucked between clean bedsheets,
I know what is real and good in this life.
Wheat-colored curls on your soft boy-shoulders,
tonight you dream of St. George and the dragon,
embodying the holy and savage in turn,
never docile,
becoming more yourself with every breath.
What is God? you ask me one night
with an eye for the profound.
This, I want to say, holding you. This.

We watch your brother toss his black mane to the sky,
a young restless colt on the flag green field.
You run behind him with your arms back, chest forward,
a bird preparing for flight, 
each color rich and deep:
green, blue, gold
your eyes in the light.
​
I watch you take flight,
the feathers of your wings brown and speckled as a hawk.