To my Son, on The First Day That You Care About How Your Hair Looks

I can almost hear it,
the rip-pop of the bubble
that you lived in,

like a birth and
like a death,
as the inside air

rushes out
and the outside air
rushes in.

And now,
you see everything.
But please

don’t forget
the way that you
were born to see.

Like a crystal vase,
like an honest face,
you are

the morning.
Carve your place
in the sky,

no matter
who is watching,
and write your name

with your heart
each day, as sure as
the abundant sun

with warmth,
and love uninhibited.


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