everything new again a poem to my nephew on the occasion of his birth

you have no idea what an airplane is
or what blue looks like
or how to tie shoes or unlock doors or break someone's heart.
you've entered as innocent as water, forgiving as the moon,
and looking at you I, too, can unremember the stars,
the view from Macchu Picchu, the shape of ferns
and triangles, the sticky taste of peanut butter, the smell
of a single lily in a glass vase.

Look how easily you've made
everything new again, and how deep
in the palm of your hand you hold the
tiniest bloom of a secret no one can know:
what will call to you to be touched,
to be held and kept close.