Bright eyes watching,
heartbeat rushing,
simple baby-smell in breeze you make yourself,
(you make yourself!)
keep me smiling.

Wonderment in bones so soft they cannot walk;
always watching, solemnity and stillness
you are mine;
you are yours, and fine-drawn glass.

Otherlife -- alien and different,
he shrugs into my arms,
fierce-focusser in light
he makes himself.

Watch me watch you
waiting to see
if I am wise or just another tweeting bird.
(Either way, he likes it).

O Son,
O Reason

And we shall have a compact
together.

©  Copyright, 2000; Malcolm Beckett