Years

The early years move
Snail-paced, sheltered, slow.

Six years on,
School begins,
The making of friends,
The knowledge of books,
The beginnings of "Why?"
Ten, and no going back again
Thirteen, and the problem of sexuality
Fifteen, first crush, first kiss;
Sixteen, and a broken heart....
Eighteen, college, dorms, and finding my way
Nineteen, and love is found, promises made
By passion-bellowed lungs...
Twenty, almost twenty-one, two of us are one;
Twenty-two, and we are three;
Twenty-three, and we are four;
Twenty-four, degree in hand, a teacher stands;
Twenty-six, the boy arrives to make us five;
Twenty-seven, and to the ranch;
Thirty, back to the northern classroom;
Thirty-two, and the little girl joins us at the valley school,
And we are six;
Thirty-three, and my second father passes;
Forty-four, and Minnesota calls us;
Fifty-two, my father passes;
Speeding now,
The years once were molasses...