Rooted
in my kitchen chair,
your eyes blue flashing
fire,
leaping from soul, flare
where burn flames hottest.
You tell your wild stories
exclaiming joy,
throwing spring branches wide
to show me how big–
and then you throw farther.
I turn aside.
Here we sit,
Parched edges of my wilderness,
Horeb
And hot cereal
All mingled together.
Mystery morning,
glory ground,
invitation:
my God in a boy.
“Moses, Moses…”
Here I am.
