James at Five Months
Our cabin’s cabined again. Oak whips
isolate us, the familial demands re-wall
existence, forcing forays, wild yet efficient,
toward galleries, projects, bringing dreams to life.
Uninhibited giggles, the type that emit at the
start of relationships, now clip by in college town,
from someone else’s lips. Frustration slips into
anger. Time evaporates; creativity back-burner burns.
Blessed, we scramble to keep James on his path.
He’s fun, curious, a screeching pterodactyl
or actor, practicing Tae Kwon Do on his back.
What next, cellist or farmer? Businessman or Shaman?
Pecan dreams, Persimmon mornings, Fig Fridays
replace ebbing art desires, manic music moments,
pompous poetry. Travel trumps all at times. We
move now, but prepare to settle with fruit and nuts.
Life, torn by unfulfilled potential, remains
free and glorious as daily rearranged priorities
sneak up to scare energy back into aging bones,
smoldering romance, bicycle pedals, mown grass.
Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2006. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.