Sleeping Son

This is a poem I wrote when my son was seven years old.


The moon had arced halfway through the fall night

When the clattering geese woke me from sleep

I turned in the bed to regard the pale light

As the dark delta passed in a fluttering sweep


I padded downstairs to look in on you

And put back the covers thrashed asunder

Even uncovered you glowed like an ember

And the scent of your hair caught me in wonder


Someday you’ll leave to find your place

Your bed will rest with covers smoothed

You’ll follow your heart to a girl’s embrace

And leave this house still and unused


But if I could remember the scent of your hair

And the warmth of your skin on the cheek I kissed

I could summon you back from wherever you wander

And conjure you up out of autumn mist.