In about 24 hours I will have been a father for ten years. I am occasionally reminded of romantic times when I didn’t just teach children about writing poetry, but I followed my own inspirations to create; this was the practicing before the preaching. In honor of my first-born, and a return to practice, I’d like to share one of those creations as it captured a magical time before she knew it all and I questioned as much. Life was new to us both, may it always be so. Happy birthday Nenna!
First Field Trip
Off to get pumpkins, cider and doughnuts. A cultural introduction we share.
Rainy, dreary, muddy, gray. Classic Michigan Autumn.
Strands of blonde and blue beacons light my way to childhood for a few hours.
A fearless rush into the field to pick the perfect gourd, then one for me.
“Are you having fun,” I ask? YES! glows, beams, penetrates my heart.
Time, won’t you stop?
A few dainty bites, a sip, almost obligatory to the occasion, then it’s off to play.
Animals in the petting farm weave swarming children.
Pensively watching life orbit about her pink raincoat, I know my child.
Even now there is some deep, strong, wise solitude almost three years old.
Parking lot hands the whole time. Her choice. My delight.
Photographs nor words rival the heart as captor.