Dear baby

I thought of you this morning as I passed the high school football field.  You know how it’s visible, there, from the road?  Sometimes when I see the little boys playing pee wee league there in the evenings I wish I could bring them all home and feed them halftime orange slices.  They weren’t there this morning, but the fog was.  And the Canadian geese were there, too, the standing ones nothing but feet and heads, and the sleeping ones, head under wing, hidden almost completely.  They were all over the field; there were so many of them.  I wanted to take a picture and hang it on your wall, and then when you’re here you can lie in your crib in the evenings before you sleep, and in your wordless thoughts maybe you will think about football and mist and orange slices and migration and what was on that field that so interested the geese.  I think that’s probably what I’ll think about, before I go to sleep tonight, and after that I’ll think about you thinking about it.