On My Son's 8th Birthday
Life expands, like the awkwardness of a child
with coxcombed hair, and teeth too large.
And I, as a parent, in my role of little God
laying out rules, expressing love in letting go,
ever-so jealous as proud;
bewilder with each birthday.
The crown of the head that slowly climbs each rib
will soon look me in the eye.
And then look down.
He is already the man.
He will be.