Perhaps it’s simply in his blood,
A drive to dive into the ocean.
As his father I fear it’s reckless,
But as a man I envy those handfuls of pebbles,
Their drive to dive into the ocean,
Impelled by mere imagination and wonder.
As a man I envy those handfuls of pebbles,
Smoothed by saltwater and swathed by a child.
Impelled by mere imagination and wonder
My son, at only six, challenges the sea —
Hair smoothed by saltwater and swathed as a child,
He emerges from the waves seeking my hand.
My son, at only six, challenges the sea,
Regathers more smooth stones as gifts,
Submerged by the waves, he seeks my hand —
A game of give and take between god and child.
He gathers more smooth stones for gifts.
Perhaps it runs in his blood,
This game of give and take between god and child —
As his father, I envy his recklessness.
