dusk run

I run tonight
at the rabbit hour
after the rain,
mist rising off the
damp pavement
but it isn't cold
and the moon shines
yellow through
leftover clouds.
A short loop,
then an out-and-back,
my longest run
since the baby and
it feels good
even when it hurts.
The stretch beyond
the turnaround
grades just so,
a faint incline that
feels harder than a hill
because the eye says it flat
but the body disagrees,
and I think that crazy
may be as simple as that:
A fight between
the eyes and limbs
of a man who doesn't
know he's almost home.

I love a baby

I love a baby
for all she doesn't know:
for sweet ignorance,
for the fresh start,
for a thousand mistakes
I haven't made
yet.
I love a baby
for all she doesn't do:
feet that don't run,
arms that don't fold,
lips that don't speak a word
yet.
I love a baby
for all she doesn't need:
no hard decisions
and no discipline,
no tests or therapies,
no parent-teacher conferences
yet.
Oh! how I love a baby.

three sons

Dandelion flower
an hour before dawn,
balled up small,
I wait
for the slow
grow of chill gray
into lighter day,
aching for
sun, son, and Son.