Running Down the Driveway
RUNNING DOWN THE DRIVEWAY
Three running down the driveway in delight
Or two racing around in one baby walker near the fence
Or one practising the piano at night :
They were the end reason for my privileged existence.
In the garden planting and sheltering flowers from the hot sun,
And the struggle with the tree in the wind, with ropes securing it,
And her reading lessons from school made bright with fun,
And the two boys making a soft place for the cat to sit -
Outshine all the places I’ve been, people I’ve known.
Successes I’ve had: they are nothing. All the achieving:
Absolutely nothing. Compared with the memory of those three - now grown -
Running down the driveway when I came home in the evening.
And how they started to look like their parents, girl or boy,
In such sparkling and unpredictable ways
Churns up my soul with feelings of thanks and joy,
Against which brightness all else dims throughout my days.
Being their father is the greatest privilege, for which I would gladly pay.
At the end I will wish for nothing except the pleasure to be
Once again there and see them running down the driveway
Laughing, shouting, flinging six arms around me.
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