In the backyard looking up at the branches of the redwood tree
Reading Ginsberg
Wondering if, one day when I was a baby
Mom pushed me in the stroller and Ginsberg walked by us
Because he and I were in the same city
When I was baby
Next door someone is doing work in their backyard
The noise disrupts the flow of my thoughts
Plus there is no breeze and it’s too hot
For my liking
Stare at the branches some more as I recline
A breeze, the noise stops
And I’m back to Ginsberg....
Maybe I looked up at him from my stroller
When I was one
He might have smiled and maybe made a face
I might have giggled
Did the one year old me think:
“I will read and love that man’s poetry many years from now”?
Or did I just giggle at the goofy face he made?
Or did our paths never cross
Hope they did
Will my daughters read this poem?
Never know in life
Never know
Maybe once I pushed one of them in the stroller
Past a famous poet
One they’ll enjoy in later years
Lot to contemplate as one stares
At the branches of the redwood tree
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