Seeing Griffy Run Poem by Max Reif

Seeing Griffy run to mom
or heel-toe, to my banjo tune,
his splaying dance of toddler-hood,
a total pleasure on his face,
brings back all joy I've ever known.

His every move is still his own,
created from the music
or a distance to be covered.
He'll find the world's
rhythms soon enough.

Olympic athletes,
New York ballerinas
might feel envy,
if they cannot share the joy
of seeing Griffy run and dance.