My son, a man now,
tall and strong like the
Ponderosa pines you
grew under…
who would have thought that
you would be conceived
in love and liberty so long ago
(but not too long for remembering?)
My son, a man now,
expansive and vast like the
Pacific beaches you
ran on…
who would have guessed that
you would thrive
in a world so torn
(but not too wrong for living?)
My son, a man now,
moving downstream like the
Midwestern river you
camped along…
who can know that
your life will take you
far away beyond my life
(but not too distant for dreaming?)