How we know nothing— 
have no control over what’s to come.  

Our Father in Heaven is kind, 
but will He be kind the way we want Him to be? 

So much could happen, 
though, month after month, nothing does.  

One day, the children will be grown.
Hopefully, some pride  

to go along with the regrets.  
Some sun, as on this summer day: 

The kids swim outside in the plastic pool.  
Our oldest daughter overseas with your parents. 

You, in a dark top and turquoise skirt, 
run your hand over the surface of the water.  

How you have remained beautiful 
over these fourteen years, 

beautiful and optimistic, despite 
the nights in the small apartment  

with great fears, carrying cups of water 
to four sleepless children  

as I commuted across the bridge to teach another section
of English Composition at the night college.

How the world gets larger 

and smaller—like the moon,
each month—

larger and smaller.