Cha-cha-cha

The sweet spot

found the blink of an eye,

infant boy on my shoulder

a full minute longer.

My grampa cha-cha

making sleepy smiles

and training my calves for the

marathon of the next twenty years.

Its grace,

not bloodline, giving

me goosebumps

and burp duty.

I married into functionality,

fill in the blanks,

take the steps

step-fathers take.

Quick, rock back,

quick-quick-quick.

I saw my parents dance

once, in fifty years.

What they gave up for us

I want to play over and

over again, before its time

to change my diapers.

Drizzle

Satisfaction

guaranteed to miss

appointments.

The first strawberry picked

a day early,

the chorus entered twelve bars

late. Stare at the sun

you can't see behind the moon screen

of the kitchen window.

A son returns,

a grandson turns 

from a camera flash,

and the anniversary of demise

lands on the calendar again.

Only eternity

outlasts confusion.

The certain heart fills

a certain part of

the puzzle, the outlook

and the in, look like rain

before drizzle.

I put off penning,

the blank page no calmer

than this stage of our lives.

This too is perfect,

no matter the grammar.

Leopold

Life
and life making
a boy or a girl.

That moon
pulling oceans
with a head of hair.

The clock can't count
a catcher's mitt
pacing the hall.

Manger, mansion,
Momma, breast,
blanket.

The name game
riddled
and solved.

This day, pink sky
blue plums,
your place in the sun.

Grand schemes,
grand pianos,
grand baby
born.