by Kelly John Carney
          June 29, 2001
 

I don't look too far ahead most days.
More interested in my immediate surroundings,
   than what's over the horizon.
 

But sometimes I turn around and look back.
I can see a long way in that direction.

There's the old neighborhood, the crick,
  the park, the red brick house on 49th Avenue.
That's all clear and surprizingly near.
 
 

There's the eye's of my love,
  gazing into mine,
I can feel the wind, smell the perfume,
  the sunshine warming my face,
  or was that a kiss.
 
There's that music and a photograph
   on an album cover.
I was looking ahead back then,
  staring at the ceiling,
  but seeing a mountain meadow.
 

 

Now here's a strange sight!
When I look at my children,
  I can see the here and now,
  but at the same time
it's like there's a continuous ribbon,
  snapping in time.

Snap! Who's that standing!
  Now, standing at the door.

Snap! We're a lively group,
  happily hiking,
 examining golden glowing leaves,
  wondering, waiting for baby #2.
 
Splashing and playful screaming,
  out in the back.
Both kids having fun, cooling off.

Snap! A gentle blowing in my baby's face,
  to startle a bit,
 and in she goes.

"Watch me Dad!"

Her grip has loosened,
  she's relaxed.
She's trying things with confidence,
  oops - too much.
 
It's OK.  Dad's here.  Dad's got you.
No words need be spoken,
  laughter and looks can say it.
A reassuring touch keeps it going.

When did we get out of the pool?
I swear, we were just playing in the water.
They learned to swim so fast, so easily.

Maybe I don't want to think about what's ahead,
  maybe I don't have the time,
 because I'm concentrating on what's dear now.
So much is dear now.

And I'm enjoying the ride, the view,
  have you noticed the view?
I just love it.