Today I will remember
the way the wind blew Oliver's hair
as he ran outside.
He looked like he was flying as he ran along
happy and free as only a little boy can
in rubber boots and bare legs.
The world around him blurred bringing him into sharp focus.
He was all I could see
bright and clear all yellow hair and rosy cheeks, blue shirt and boots.
He let himself out of the house and ran to join his brothers,
away from the suggestion of a nap that he new was brewing in my mind.
I let him go
watched as he ran free in the thawing air
and my heart ran with him.
Watched as he picked a clump of grass,
lifted his face to the sun,
then ran to me to show the handful of 'hair' that he had picked.
'Is grass the hair of the earth?' I ask
Back and forth he runs, up and down, in shadow and full light,
happy and free,
the wind blowing his hair.