dear son

Son, you are small every day
but you are on the journey up the mountain son
Today we play in puddles
slip and slide
Hide in the trees
Jump from boulder to boulder
over canyons with excitement and glee
You are at the bottom of the mountain son,
where the winds are soft
and the rain gives life to budding sprouts
we harvest in the good times
We go to sleep happy
 
The floods come in the night
Suddenly we lose everything but ourselves
using all the skills we learned at play
to make it to safety high where the sky meets the earth
 
It is a cold wind but we have our warm memories
We work extra hard to make shelter
from all the times at play that we built forts
and had mudball fights
 
We make it through
My you have grown my son
I did not realize you are a man
You carry me over the crevices
You catch my food where once I caught yours
and cut my food into nice soft cooked pieces
for my old teeth
 
The mountain is cold and serious now
it is your turn to make it warm
Soon will come a wife and little ones
And I will be happy