For My Grandsons
When you show me the kitten’s paw shell
balanced on top of your palm—its clawed grooves
resting like a fistful of burnished violet sea oats—
I see in your face the awe of this overly large world.
In that moment, I know I must return to prayer
and to giving thanks for small things:
light hopscotching across waves
pelicans throwing themselves down and down
the inexorable flow of estuaries
the tiny hearts of sandpipers clanging quietly but fiercely.
