Stones

We are in the backyard and

C is jumping over stones in

A gravel path that winds all

Around his legs like a river

Or how each time he jumps

His feet make landfall and

Stones spray up and out of

The path. And I am thinking

About the fullness of a river

When a storm hits. Or how.

Storms keep hitting. Hitting

Land and people. How Irma

Hit islands and now Florida.

And how Texas is still under

Water. Flooded

With water that is filled with

E-coli and sunken cars and

How no one knows.

No one knows. What is really

There. Until the water recedes.

And C is bending over. Picking

Up stones. Pointing

At me and saying yes.

And I hold my sweater out. Away

From my body. Gaping and wide

Like a stomach. Saying here. How

He should put them here.

And he picks up a handful of stones.

Drops them in. Spreading his fingers

Open and letting them go. Or going.

How he is going now. Running across

Grass and shouting. Shouting out the

Number eighteen.

Or later. How I find it.

My sweater in this dark kitchen.

A sack of stones on the counter.

And I am opening. Opening up my

Sweater and counting the stones.

Counting the stones one by one.

Lining them up on the window sill.

Or how I already know. Know how

Many there are. How C knew and

How he counted them. Like that.

In his head and quickly. Just by

Looking at them. And I walk down

The hallway. Into our bedroom and

Say to my husband he’s brilliant. Or

How no one knows. No one knows

How brilliant he is.

And my husband says yes.

And his yes is this ellipsis punctuating

The darkness. Or how every moment

Leads to another one. And I go and

Stand in the doorway and watch C

Sleep. And I know. I know his body

Is filled with sequencing numbers

And algebraic symbols.

The endlessness of a water cycle.

Bird calls and labeled bodies of

Flying butterflies.

Or how in the kitchen

There are eighteen stones

Lined up on the window sill

Like miniature sandbags.

Holding some of it back.

Holding some of it back

For now.

Wings

Listen I say there are birds.

Birds in our sky today. And

C is eight and he is standing

In the middle of a day with

Grass that stretches out all

Around him. Like water. Or

How he is holding his iPad

In his left hand. And it hangs

Down. Against his thigh. And

He is looking up. Where he

Scans the trees and sky or

When he finds it. C points.

And says bird.

His hands are flying up now.

Lifting it up. The iPad up to

His chest. Tapping it with a

Finger to start. And a woman.

Her voice comes out. Talking

About sound or how it travels.

How a sound is made

When molecules in the air move

In waves. And when she says it.

Says the words longitudinal wave.

This is when C starts.

Starts to make the sound. A loud

And repetitive uhh uhh uhh uhh.

Because it is the sound he makes

When he knows all the words by

Heart. But cannot say them. Yet

And each uhh stands for one. For

One syllable. Or how C says each uhh

In time. At the same time as her words.

The woman whose voice comes out of

His iPad. How they both pause

For a beat. When she says rarefaction.

Before starting. Starting again.

And rarefaction is the opposite

Of compression. How it is what

Happens when air molecules

Stretch out and have space.

The space to expand. And

I watch C.

Watch him as he does this.

Makes this sound. How he

Looks up and out at the sky.

And his eyes are wide and

Listening. Or how. When.

He does this in public. Makes the

Sound. Over and over and over

Again. How people stare.

But this. This is ours.

Our backyard. Where

He is among the song

Birds and safe. And I lay down.

Lay down on the grass.

Next to him. Next to where he

Is standing. Close my eyes and

Listen to him.

Let the sound of them. The words

He cannot say yet.

Let them fall all over me

Like wings.