Sonnet #325

 I found the lamp; the genie came and granted

The three wishes, and I thought about my son

Who is not yet three, and what could be won

By one so young: to have his moment supplanted

With whatever whim he has, a tv show perhaps,

A giant garbage truck that changes colors on command

He pretends to cook ravioli so he’ll have that on demand

And in thirty years, he would tumble through his mishaps

And ache at all the pain he brought upon himself

By spending all his power on the whims of youth -

I have the lamp; The universe is mine, what else?

Control of others? A power to change the truth?

Just toys and fancy. Hold mine unspent, three prayers

I am too young, we are all too young, to wish into the air.

Sonnet #324

We call the hard ones strong but they 

Are not. The jagged cliffs are shaped by sea

The wind blows down all the mighty trees 

And we sit upon the beach and sea spray

Tickles our noses where the wind catches

The drops, and we bask in that cool water

And swim among the reefs, fish scatter

And they are so small, so delicate, patches

Of light glistening and alive and so small

And all our strength all our hardness breaks

Upon the beach, where tiny sand’s pull

Gently holds us up and swallows us, takes

As much as it carries of our skin cells,

The tiniest worms devour the mightiest who make