Hod sh’b Malchut/Shechina*
I tell him that this rock at the base of the back-yard maple
carelessly dropped decades ago is now clenched
tight by the roots grown around it.
With one hand he slides it up out of the earth
and moving around the rough-barked tree
lifts three more from their resting places
between the large-knuckled root toes. Easy-
peasy as time passing will pry each of us
loose from our lives.
Thanks, I say to my dear son, grown strong
in mid-life, and go off to dig earth from the compost
back of the shed, and fill
the rock-shaped holes, stamp them flat, scatter
grass seed. May I learn to rejoice
equally in the claspings
and the upheavals when finally what is
caught is, in grace and love.
*Humble Splendor w/in Indwelling Presence