My son, Captain Spectacular, turned 5 on friday. I painted this from a photo thats been moldering in the file since last june. oil on canvas, 12"x12"
daily poem by Sarah J. Merrill,
Swiftly turning in the yellow grass,
there is a lithe figure moving through our field
who could not possibly be my son.
There is a competence in his small body
for which I’m not quite ready. Here I am
transfixed at the window. I was here at this window
another morning before my son was born,
when a small deer stepped
tentatively from the winter-trampled field
and stood in the driveway. He stood there a long time
smelling the air, pale against the asphalt,
and I was unable to move away.
I willed him back toward the field, the dense woods,
that way, that way, I thought, my face at the glass.
But of course I could not warn him
about any of the things that I knew.
I could not keep him in the yellow
field with the sun on his back,
a window around him, framing his life.