My son

He wiggles around when you try to hug him
For longer than three seconds
He is here
And there
He makes us guess how much energy
We really do have
Pulling more out of hats
And bags
Each day

But within those
Three seconds
Is the universe
The tenderness I know grows inside him
Deep and rich
Dark green
With wild berries
And thickets of goldenrod

I believe this is where he lives
At the age
Where he is right on the edge of
And culture
And blending in
He is purely

He can’t stay still
Long enough
For us to tell him
Just how much
We are in love with him
Because maybe he already knows

Maybe he is so confident
In our love
That he doesn’t need to stand still to feel it

It’s a gift when I am asked to hold his hand
To lie down in his bed before sleep
To make it through an entire book in one sitting

And it’s also a gift to watch him move
And jump
And wiggle

Angela Theresa is a mother, writer and coffee drinker. Her first book of poems "We Are The Mothers" is now available on Amazon.
You can find her on her Substack.

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