My Son at the Seashore, Age Two

He laughs and a breeze

lifts his hair. His face tilts up

towards what has happened

to his hair, that it should lift,

and his laugh goes. Why

is this happening, his suddenly

serious face wants to know, and

what is happening. But

all it is is a little breeze

lifting his hair for a few seconds,

a little breeze passing by

on its way to oblivion —

as this day is on its way there too,

and as that day, twenty years ago,

was, too.