Luca At Two
Golden haired,
Serene or squalling,
Monarch of all
He surveys.
It was touch
And go at first –
A teary transfer
From grandparent
To grandparent –
Until he spotted
The garbage truck.
“Garbage truck,”
He said sagely
And soberly,
Pointing emphatically.
Sensing common ground,
We eagerly concurred,
“Garbage truck,
Of course,
It’s Monday!”
The ice had
Been broken,
Our day together
Could begin.
To be able
To make him
Smile, or even
Better, laugh,
Was a privilege that,
Once earned,
Made the day
Evanescent
Yet Essential.