You began as the fruit grew heavy
on vines and branches, in the heat
of August - first a wish, then a will, then
a passionate union of elements
to fulfill a dream I held, second child.
You caught my imagination like the deer
I passed often in open fields that appeared
as summer messengers to herald mystery,
spry spirits and quick bodies foreshadowing.
You made your swift way through the shade.
Autumn leaves transfigured to falling snow,
seasons turning rapidly as pages in a new
story. Your name, whispered between lines
and through busy days, settled surely on my
tongue and heart, sparked an instant vision
of strength. Growing, you affirmed intuition
with boldness, presenting more grounded
connections, channeling words to action,
stretching my physical and etheric bodies.
You are breaking molds, a spring shoot
through old soil, harnessing energy to shape
what we hope for in what we touch. Your
heaviness teaches me how to be human, here
and willing to walk the path emerging
from fire and dust at the feet. My son,
the rains and blooms are yours, rinsing and
rising, your soul a legend for this new world's
map. I see you running through the thicket,
untamed and ready. I do not expect that I can
follow the way, or that you will turn back.
But I trust that when I catch your eye, I will see
where we are going, that our heartbeats will
speak the next, wordless chapter.
