Now you are yourselves and strong in all you do,

This bright window moment and you alike,

As riding off down the storied road you go,

Graceful, precious, receding on your bikes.

I cannot look at you but think of all the years

Of your growing, your earth-dark and wheat-light days,

But see those fertile fields and wish them near

Always; only to let them turn away.

In time, you too may be divided

Into two, three, four or more, into boy and girl:

All you are, dispersed, effortlessly sown,

Baffling and indefinable, unguided,

As you spread your balm upon this aching world,

Yielding me restful, lucky at what I’ve known.