A Hundred Falling Veils

And after the boy

hugs his sister

and tells her

she did a great job,

after he wipes

her tears and holds

her and wraps her

in his awkward arms,

after she leans

into him, their

sapling trunks

sloping toward

each other,

I want to tell him

how proud I am

of the ways

he is growing,

want to affirm

how much depends

on love, want

to say I see his tenderness,

but the soil beneath

them is unstable,

precious, and my voice

is full of heavy clouds,

so I wait until

they sway apart,

then I walk closer

and manage to say

through invisible rain,

It’s time.

Let’s go home.