GERMINATING.

It’s October down there,
He said,
As we passed the end of a lane,
Although why that particular snickle way
Took his attention I’ll never know,
Similarly why he told me to take a wall off,
Or asked after an arbitrary item
That we passed
Remain obscure too,

But he’s sleeping in a bed now,
And learning letters,
And getting better with wetness,
So I guess it’s all part of the man plan,
And eventually every vector will settle
Into a random pattern of attraction
That none of us
Will recognise tomorrow,
Or remember from yesterday,

And as long as I can still fit
These shifting procedures
Into an average week’s framework,
And make some sense of them,
Then I won’t gripe about his ripening,
And take heart
From the fact that his inquisitiveness,
And imagination
Are framing mine.