About Time.

Finally,
Fall.
Had to come - was beginning to cause some ache.
Seasons get me, rock me, pull me,
When I'm in, I'm in, but the getting there is tough.
Like a Summer Adolescence,
at some point,
I need it to be
over.

And October is Alan's month.
Just is.
Blustery cool, wool, and leaves -
a month he could
wrap himself in,
nearly see his breath
as the trees
let
go.

So September slipped right through my fingers.
Lily sauntered off to Kindergarten,
no big deal.
Hardly a look back from this One.
Got the squeeze,
got the kiss,
and then
she let
me
go.
Solid in appearance,
it all makes sense,
the i in her name -
often drawn as its tallest letter ~
Proud spirit,
lanky, steady.
                        Upright Exclamation.

She always was an I.

Nearly fools me with her rock-steadiness.
How do they do that - so young?
Just back from Portland where we celebrated a friend,
shedding his youth with courage and grace.
A weekend full of familial love, it almost was too much…
In a slide show her Dad appeared, I appeared, She appeared -
another flash of who we were but never got
to be.

Beautiful blow to the gut.
Got me then and there.
But took some days,
to dig its way,
to that fragile
soul of hers.

Reached her core though...
And then I am reminded of her tissue paper wings,
thin-as-silk skin,
hummingbird heart -
that gently ever-mourns in its own secluded way.
So delicate, The Knockout Kid.
That's when the DNA really shows - just like her parents,
tough tough shell around feather soft insides.
Reminds me to be extra careful with her heart
as she races round the corner into Autumn.
Recent nights I check on her
and see
she's placed a wedding photo
on a pouf
beside her
bed.

Sometimes we're so close it's hard to see
where I end
and she
begins...
It's the quiet nighttime moments when I can study her as she sleeps
that bring me back to my naivete as a parent.
It is then I see her Self most clearly.
Separate, quiet, journeying mind,
body flanking the entire bed -
securing space around her.
And then I apologize to her,
for forgetting about those
deepest layers
hidden under her daytime cloak -
and shamefully whisper in her ear
that
I'll
do
better
when
the morning
comes.