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Crescendo of a thousand hallelujahs 

Spanning across the wintergreen fields

Yellow tufts and brown cows and the occasional orange excavator

Those almond eyes staring out, reflecting in the glass

With your red sweater, so dark against your salt-white throat

I reached back to grasp your hand

And you let me, staring down at your little fingers in mine

My shoulder screaming at the awkward angle

But I had to span that widening gulf between us, you growing up right before my eyes in the rear vision mirror

You look so sad,

Too sad for someone whose greatest sadness has been a melted icy pole

Or a red car not shared by those bigger boys at the park 

I pulled my hand away, adjusting the temperature, wiping my eyes

The blue expanse of sky littered with cottontails 

How can I survive this you with worlds inside 

This grown up, thinking, feeling you

Your pink lips moving as you sing softly to yourself

This atomic detonation in my throat, I won’t survive the wondering complexity of those dimples and that endless request for more of me

Parenting is like a fucked science experiment, here, a scalpel, cut out your own heart, now how does that feel?

How can I ever let you g(r)o(w)?