In wonder, his hand retreats
from his father’s grasp.
He stamps his small foot
askew from his direction,
then leaps to follow
this new trajectory
towards his own mecca.
With a fierce jerk,
over he bends,
looks back between his legs.
“Yaaaaah” escapes
from an inner drummer.
He somersaults forward
onto wet cut grass
sticking in clumps
all down his back.
A yellow moth
flutters overhead
just out of reach.
He heaves up his arms.
Spreads his novice fingers.
Runs open-mouthed
in wild pursuit
as he grasps fistfuls of sky.
That opaque eyes
and listless steps
could stay at bay
a little longer
before mannered ways
and distant doubts
tame a mighty universe
all his own.
First published by The Sunlight Press July 16, 2019
Photo by Marc Wilnauer on Unsplash