One morning

The boy is wide awake:
he climbs into our bed
and clambers toward my head,
wielding a yellow rake.

Combing my hair, the boy
giggles with every stroke.
His is a simple joke:
he knows his plastic toy

is not a comb, my hair
is not disheveled sand,
and yet his furrowed mind
has seen a likeness there—

delight grows from small seeds.
And for now I won’t worry
what else might, as we hurry
toward what the future breeds.

Your donation sustains our efforts to inspire joyous rediscoveries.

Geoffrey Brock is the author Weighing Light and the translator of several books from the Italian language.

Topics: Poetry

Download