To Will
On hands and knees
you now explore
the deepest canyon of the floor,
and relish every
dried up crumb
scavenged in the dining room,
and pull yourself
to breathless height-
twenty five inches, now upright.
A scientist with
work to do
not one thing that comes into view
escapes without
exhaustive testing
including poking, plucking, sucking,
dropping, stopping,
shredding and beheading,
tasting, chasing, folding and unrolling.
No time for colic,
workaholic,
never still a minute
no project in the
house without you in it.
You hear the tiny “tink” of candy wrapping,
but cannons
couldn’t wake you when you’re napping.
You fill the empty
rooms around
with energetic baby sound,
and furnish any
empty space
with smiles too big for just one face,
and leave me
chuckling hours after
at your bubbling baby laughter.
1985
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