The light comes through the Autumn leaves
As a baby just learned to stand
On their wobbly knees;
No cares in the world
Except to please,
Run around—be free.

Meanwhile I look worriedly on.
A million falls cross through my mind,
Wondering when the danger will ever dawn
On the child’s.

For like the branches, the kid’s bones
Will eventually break.
The shaky one’s of my own
Feel ever less mine,
And more property of the stones
Encircling the lawn of the little one.

This thought calms my worry
As I again take the time to admire
The intuitive child’s hurry
To cover as much of the world possible
Before they’re brain gets too blurry
And they know any wrong.

For when on wobbly knees,
There can be no worries
Except about how far to run—
Be free.