busyHere's another poem, written while we were out this morning. Only three more to go!
Running Errands with My Toddler in Late April
Showers of pink blooms flutter
on this astounding bright day
of lime greens and pale pinks.
A fuchsia bush, ablaze. "It's
a stop-go sign," you say, because
we stop and then we
go. And in a way, you are right.
A teen who should know
better is wearing tangerine
and white stripes with
white plaid shorts. How
time slips away. My fingernails
have grown too long,
again. You play with the plastic
bird you've had since infancy.
"Tweet-tweet," you say. "I'm up
in a tree." Like your bird,
time flies. And that is fine,
as we move forward, in
or out of trees, stopping
and going. A woman
in a bright-blue sari
guides her grandson slowly
down pink-petaled sidewalks.
You care more about
loaders and excavators. We see
the same world differently.
A young bleached blonde pushes
her white-haired baby across
busy lanes. She waves at me,
as if I could do anything
but stop. Time rolls on, and I still
love you, the only unmoving
constant in our shifting days.
- April 30, 2013
Like this poem? Donate any amount and receive a special limited-edition ebook, available as a PDF in May, titled "Now with Kung-Fu Action Grip." It will include poetry, essays and humor pieces about pregnancy, parenting and my creative, determined toddler, nicknamed Kung Fu Panda, including writings about our recent trip to Illinois, where he was the ringbearer in a wedding.
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19106-9706
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