did I mention

did I mention
my son is driving now
I watch him
everyday
from behind
he appears
every inch
a man
his shoulders
only slightly less wide
than the door frame
muscles blowing out
voice sincerely deep
yet
he is not a man
still closer to 15 than adulthood
joining gaggles of generation teXters
spreading their rubber wings
upon an overburdened world saturated with flashing macadam, blinding halogens
and
complicated souls perpetually racing their personal calendars
his young supple mind must remain
singular of purpose
leave all those fresh happenings
curbside
before leaping behind the velveteen wheel
yanking its quadruplet of synchronized tires into the fray
may each and every casual roll
be from point a to point b only
not a flippant roll of the dice
he is not a gambler
neither am I
this is the season
for believers
we are
both the same
singular of purpose
when singing and shining
in this glorious cacophony
of colored bells
and bursting evergreen stars

for those who celebrate this warm day of family and friends gathering (mostly for food;)) and collecting in peace, Happy Thanksgiving
for those who don’t, have a wonderful weekend – thank you
squanto-with-editshonoring all who have gone before

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