Joy

He hiccups a laugh like

a schoolchild on the monkey bars

when his eyes find a wingspan

as far-reaching as his smile.

He can’t help but marvel,

this boy, who catches my gaze before it returns

to a more dangerous playground–my mind,

where worries climb and what ifs clutch the chains,

swinging erratic and wild.

But he points at the slender beak of a hawk flying low,

and my wrinkled brow smooths over.

His wonder salves every burn, and calms the beating in my temples.

With him I dangle free, legs kicking towards the otherside

and my insides tickle with a different kind of spasm–joy.

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