Pop

Newborn, new person --
Ruddy of cheek and round,
A chipmunk bounding
Toward winter,
Eyes agog and wide to the world in front
Face cute with incredulity
T-shirt awash with drool,
(Dripping at the waiting feast of life?)
Cool red bandanna tries but cannot help
To stem the glistening tide
While truncated legs
Ending in star spangled booties swaying beneath
Dad's new blue front-pack,
Making him look past due.
He's so proud he could pop.

Proud he is and full,
As he swaggers ahead down
A springtime path hoping you'll look,
Of great expectations
And virginal visions
Of what those eyes will see
Of where those feet will tread
A budding life so tender
Its fruit can barely be imagined.

But why look into the future?
How can he separate his hopes
From baby's destiny?
(Around a bend, he's never been this far.)
For now it is only the moment
Look at me! I'm a dad!