Atop Rib Mountain, The Stars

We linger, my tall son and I,

between two universes ...

hair blowing around our faces.

City lights loop

along Wisconsin River bluffs

far below the huge slow slope;

stars chatter above where we stand.

My mind presses and collapses the void

into patterns: Cepheus, Cassiopeia, Cygnus -

like neighborhoods below:

River Hills, Woodson, Pine Valley.

I recall the vastness of motherhood

faced at his age, twenty-one years ago;

learning to condense it into

constellations: feed, teach, love.

We've come a distance together;

mine, sweat-drenched. His,

a mere leap or two across

first steppingstones to an edge.

Tonight, dreamed galaxies spin out

ahead, singing courage.

His stars await.