Have you made any sand castles lately-
with that absurd, red dust that fills up your shoes?
I have stains on my socks from it still,
and pictures of you in my room in an album.
I can’t wait until we are on the plane,
‘til the mesa is rising up from the ground
behind the empty house and we’ll see you
with the dry breeze tickling the air
and the morning sun creeping up in the sky.
Before we see you, and
two hours before church and
time is still.
We sway on the swings and set
records on the monkey-bars, together
delighting ourselves in the Lord.
Soon, I hope, we’ll get to see you
and what of fire ants and sunburns?
We will all just brave them together.
And you can have my whole popsicle
because I saw you lick it
while I was
velcroing your dusty shoes, silly boy.