My rumbling grandson and his Mama came to visit. The Librarian and the little queen came as well. He is almost two, with bright red hair. Big for his age, he lives on the hard edge of now. He is a joy to cook for. I made spinach lasagna with asparagus on the side. The Librarian made a rhubarb/strawberry crisp for desert. He eats like he plays, without restraint or regret. We rested, then we ate and laughed and carried on some more. He lives without secrets, or shame, in plain truth, and the joy and rage of it is like a stampede of hurricane apes on the beach.
Rumbling, Rolling Boy
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Red head boy fears, eats,
laughs. Signing please,
weeps for Mama.
Appearing, they laugh.
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Under the mess and wonder
rumbles a rolling soul.
Wonder Boy, sing to me,
bounce and bang out sadness.
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Knock down sorrow to a pile of blocks,
rebuild and blow over with joy.
Dust, water, light and air
are you and yours.
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