Growing Down Poem by Sheena Blackhall

I loved to hear him gasp with scared delight
Safe in my grasp, as we slid down the peat
Between the fir tree branches, low with cones
Close to the thundering Falls on angled feet

His tumbled toddler knees were brown with bark
Behind my skirts, he’d bounce and wave for fun
A wingless fledgling, golden in the light
Greeting the waters haloed by the sun

Now he’s the human crutch I lean against
As, roles reversed, we slide towards the Falls
Watching them plunge into their own demise
Far and away, a wheeling buzzard calls.