Children's Poems IX
The Tapestry of Leaves
Michael R. Burch
Leaves unfold
as life is sold
or bartered, for a moment in the sun.
The interchange
of lives is strange:
what reason—life—when death leaves all undone?
O, earthly son
when rest is won
and wrested from this ground, then through my clay's
soft mortal soot
thrust forth your root
until your leaves embrace the sun's bright rays.
The Long Days Lengthening Into Darkness
Michael R. Burch
Today, I can be his happiness
and if he delights
in hugs and smiles
in baseball and long walks
talking about Rug Rats, Dinosaurs and Pokemon
noticing how his face lights up
at my least word,
how tender his expression,
gazing up at me in adoration
O, son,
these are the long days
lengthening into darkness.
Now over the earth
(how solemn and still their processions)
the clouds
gather to extinguish the sun.
And what I can give you is perhaps no more nor less
than this brief ray dazzling our faces,
seeing how soon the night becomes my consideration.
Renown
Michael R. Burch
Words fail us when, at last,
we lie unread amid night's parchment leaves,
life's chapter past.
Whatever I have gained of life, I lost,
except for this bright emblem
of your smile
and I would grasp
its meaning closer for a longer while
but I am glad
with all my heart to be unheard
and smile
bound here, still strangely mortal,
instructed by wise Love not to be sad,
when to be the lesser poet
meant to be 'the world's best dad.'
Miracle
by Michael R. Burch
for Jeremy
The contrails of galaxies mingle, and the dust of that first day still shines.
Before I conceived you, before your heart beat, you were mine,
and I see
infinity leap in your bright, fluent eyes.
And you are the best of all that I am. You became
and what will be left of me is the flesh you comprise,
and I see
whatever must be—leaves its mark, yet depends
on these indigo skies, on these bright trails of dust,
on a veiled, curtained past, on some dream beyond knowing,
on the mists of a future too uncertain to heed.
And I see
your eyes—dauntless, glowing—
glowing with the mystery of all they perceive,
with the glories of galaxies passed, yet bestowing,
though millennia dead, all this pale feathery light.
And I see
all your wonder—a wonder to me, for, unknowing,
of all this portends, still your gaze never wavers.
And love is unchallenged in all these vast skies,
or by distance, or time. The ghostly moon hovers;
I see; and I see
all that I am reflected in all that you have become to me.
Copyright ©
Michael Burch
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