Monday, September 11, 2006

Somebody's Son

We kissed our son goodbye.
We embraced and prayed
For God's care and blessing
As he set off for the Arctic.
Back from the oilfields,
And off again - to experience life.

The sun was brilliant and the air cold
Daffodils and periwinkle trimmed the path
So we walked down to the beach
Where lycra clad runners celebrate health
And fathers bring pails and shovels
Following their sons barefoot.

Families played baseball
Lasers raced across the surf
In the way of parasailers
Under multicoloured banners.
Dogs galloped through puddles
And tankers sat at anchor.

We rounded the point
And sat on a log
Taking in the dark mountains
Powdered with snow.
Ski trails reflected the sun
Sand stretched half a mile before us.

Washed up by last night's surf
In a tidepool six inches deep
He lay face down.
Water lapped on denim
And the breeze ruffled
Short brown hair.

Somebody's son.

March 18, 2006, Spanish Banks, Vancouver


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