I love this poem on becoming a parent. The truth of this conflicting expectation of letting go yet holding fast is so much more apparent now as we wake up to watch Bennett sleep. He's already changed quite a bit in two weeks, I can't even begin to fathom how it will be in two years.
Anyhow, Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there whose roots remain deep as you see your little birds grow and fly.
Ode on the Whole Duty Of Parents
The spirits of children are remote and wise,
They must go free
Like fishes in the sea
Or starlings in the skies,
Whilst you remain
The shore where casually they come again.
But when there falls the stalking shade of fear,
You must be suddenly near,
You, the unstable, must become a tree
In whose unending heights of flowering green
Hangs every fruit that grows, with silver bells,
Where heart-distracting magic birds are seen
And all the things a fairy-story tells;
Though you should possess
Roots that go deep in ordinary earth
And strong consoling bark
To love and to caress.