We sit on the beach,
my arms and legs about him.
He rests against me. I feel
his curls under my chin.
We watch the waves.
We watch light on the waves –
its quick crowd,
passengers changing trains.
We listen.
His anxiety comes and goes.
He speaks of it, asking,
Is it time? When?
He is a good boy
and sits still.
I hope he will absorb this beach.
I hope it will stay with him.
Then, coming down the green steps,
loaded with his baby sister –
his mom, his dad.
Can my mind unlearn
anxiety? Attend to
what is – and what will
continue to be here long after
my mind?