My son brings me a stone and asks
which star it fell from.  He is serious
and so I must be careful,
even though I know he will place it
among those things that will leave him
someday, and he will go on, gathering.
For this is one of those moments
that turns suddenly toward you, opening
as it turns, as if for an instant
we paused on the edge of a heartbeat
and then pressed forward, conscious
of the fear that runs beside us
and how lovely it is to be with each other
in the long resilient mornings.


© by David Watts.
Used with the author’s permission.