For Theo
The crimson edge of the maple leaves, the verdant centers The sun sparkling on the honey locusts The cotton batting clouds marching their way to dawn The breeze rattling the London plane leaves, large as saucers The drip of the rain off the eaves The tight fists of a newborn, his furry skin his rosebud mouth the soft weight of him, carefully cradled by hands that span his length The way this October lasted and lasted and the trees held tight to their leaves, like they were waiting for his arrival One glorious burst of light and color Baby, this is your world This is your sun, your leaves, your sky Get ready, see how it put on a show just for you?
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Amarillo Bay 