We linger, my tall son and I,
between two universes ...
hair blowing around our faces.
City lights loop
along Wisconsin River bluffs
far below the huge slow slope;
stars chatter above where we stand.
My mind presses and collapses the void
into patterns: Cepheus, Cassiopeia, Cygnus -
like neighborhoods below:
River Hills, Woodson, Pine Valley.
I recall the vastness of motherhood
faced at his age, twenty-one years ago;
learning to condense it into
constellations: feed, teach, love.
We've come a distance together;
mine, sweat-drenched. His,
a mere leap or two across
first steppingstones to an edge.
Tonight, dreamed galaxies spin out
ahead, singing courage.
His stars await.