"Happy Hobbler", draft no. 4

Nothing could ever match the thrill

Of having my son lead us around the Hill,

Landing a White House West Wing tour

And poking my praying head through the Oval Office door.

Daughters of the Revolution gave me hope

My progeny might land on their rolls,

Taught me of Phillis Wheatley, The Revolution's Poet Laureate

A fellow wordsmith, despite her bound chariot [or enslavement?].

Snuck morsels of Calder and Mary Cassatt

Between back spasms and ice pack stops,

Even got to the National Cathedral

For carillon hymns and vibes medieval.

My knee made me a tad slow pokey

But I ordered correctly my DeSalles gnocchi

The metro was smooth; the weather sultry

The company cool; the expenses paltry.

Glad to see the newlyweds at their intern best

Before they head off to their grad school nest.

Power Couple, draft no. 2

(For Calvin, I wrote this just before your wedding, but sending it now):

I know she takes your breath away

But I do not ask your love to stay

I'd rather you fall out of love

Learn the cadence from above

Of loving someone for the ways

They aren't who you thought they had to be

I'd rather you love unto holiness

Hers, yours, the kind only found

By Christ's example, power, and fellowship

This is your bread, your calling, a mystery

You will amass a large school debt

(And one day pay that off)

But I would rather you know the constant debt of

Outdoing the "I do" one breath at a time

May your highs and your disillusionments

Draw you deeper into communion with Christ

A deeper well that nourishes you into 

A swaddling kind of love

Your signal is getting stronger, your melody is ringing true

How wonderful to be sure of this:

You will not die with your song still inside you, 

You are singing it every day

At the top of your lungs. 

Love, 

Mom

Luxury Ride, draft no. 5

Wiper's drone in rain

Recalls secure childhood naps

My dad at the wheel