Atop Rib Mountain, The Stars
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.