Now passing through the days.

My Son at the Seashore, Age Two
Don Coles

He laughs and a breeze
lifts his hair. His face tilts up
towards what has happened
to his hair, that it should lift,
and his laugh goes. Why
is this happening, his suddenly
serious face wants to know, and
what is happening. But
all it is is a little breeze
lifting his hair for a few seconds,
a little breeze passing by
on its way to oblivion —
as this day is on its way there too,
and as that day, twenty years ago,
was, too.

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