soon my children will fly from my firm embrace
to that worldly gaggle of spit, and fire and chance and
unleased all... opportunity, happiness, love, and desire

but for now, I'm holding tight to their smiles and stylings...
and petulance and arguments and laments... pitched battles
that end up soon in smiles and hugs goodnight

and dressing up.. posing and posturing for a tik tok
dance or feisty Instagram... silly but so now...
flippancy and admonishments roll out like a lucky seven

going out, coming in, that's up and then down
here's the doorbell being rung one, two, three times
fast, so fast... "open up Dad keys are in our backpacks"

a blink from diapers to destinations... on their own
with friends and futures in tow... be home soon
maybe midnight, maybe three... really not sure

time waits ready to treat the destiny for each one's
sonnet, symphony... jazz riff or rap synapse...
solely and uniquely fitted like a fine dovetail joint

glowing bright as a midnight star
a daughter strong as a towering oak
that's what I am getting... her name is Tahlia
wrapped in curls and manners bespoke

for me, her siblings and mother
frames filled with awards and recognition
we all know she is like no other
with focus, determination, and erudition

skills self-taught she crafts and smiles
folding, sewing, painting... singing away
her manner is engrossed as she beguiles
then off she goes all ready for play

not six, not twenty, just eleven in years
so knowing, and caring... always ready
"honey, can you find"... she's already up the stairs
her wit and knowledge are amazingly heady

a joy, a triumph to be called her "Dad"
I stop always to do whatever she'll ask
that is the way to guide and show her how glad
to know for me it's an honor... never a task

we are shredding our sensibilities
into mindless, endless affirmations of guilt
if by a freak of nature we are all now a disease
by birth our skin.... white and pale as silt

stumping and pumping hands high in shrill
gasping moments in the public square
banged and pummeled our mouths fail our will
but against those men with muskets do we compare

thrown across flickering screens that rage
with acid and foment eliciting condemnation's hate
are we just players in the second act on stage
if you fail and are plowed under there is no rebate

the mustering blustering sanctimonious deceit
has crept in brains and deranged the synapse
flagellating babbling chauffeur-driven elite
deliver the death knell, clock sure without lapse

take heed and know your forbearance is fully tested
against an evil with spikes at every turn and bend
if you falter now or run from the beast to be bested
surely the light and lift of all mankind will be but a bitter end

a cascade of Pavarotti high cs
the turbulence of ocean tsunamis

a casual duck quack, quack
the clacking of a nine-ball rack

a boot dropped with a thud
the splat when falling in the mud

the morning doves coo coo coo
a diamond rings ooh ooh ooh

a sudden unexpected insult
the response and inevitable tumult

the joy in a finely aged wine
a smile from whom you choose to dine

food just dropped on your pants
the casting of an unapproving glance

a lofting climb of a high flying kite
the tug you make with all your might

the hostas now dead under the snow
will surely soon blossom, that you know

your children's tinkling joy and laughter
will be your symphony in the hereafter