Weekend

He lies on the couch
down with the flu
lets me take care of him a little
happy that I've brought popsicles home
and I am grateful for the chance to
do something right.

She sits next to me in the
front seat of the car
stays mostly quiet
doesn't want me to look at her,
but see how tall she's grown?

She doesn't know that just
her sitting there puts
something within me at ease,
and I cannot tell her
without becoming instantly
creepy.

The youngest is
slower than the other kids
at the birthday party
on the razor scooters
but he keeps at it
undaunted.

Later, we two take a walk in town
a sunny afternoon, nearly Spring,
I point up to the bare branches
of a white birch and a church steeple
set against a bright blue sky
checkered with small white clouds

I show him how I'd like to take a photograph
he looks at the scene, then at me,
and for a moment sees what I do.