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Leaving the Nest

Young hawk has left the nest perhaps

only for a trial flight but I hear it crying

at the front of the house this morning.

When Peter stood for the first time

on his own clinging to the edge of the

toy box he turned to me with a look of

panic at what he had done.  What now?

his small face seemed to ask.

A writer I admire died last night

left this world I hope without panic

though she loved all that it held.

I hold now to her earlier advice

about knowing what you love so

that you can do a great deal of it.

Peter now moves easily through the world

India China Africa Iceland Europe.

The hawk will one day leave the nest forever

soar and wheel as its parents do now.

And I?  I will continue to write.

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Peter & Karen

My son floats grand dreams on the lake

of his heart as I do, too. One day he says

he’ll make a pot of money enough to

move me and her mother too to

California where both our arms

will reach around grandchildren

who will no doubt be extraordinary

like their parents. Now I hear a

titmouse calling Peter Peter Peter

reminding me that next week

she and he will once again

be miles and then oceans away.

Until next time. Next time.

I sip these hours and days slowly.