As I carry him up to bed
We pause at the window
To look out at the night
"Why is the moon little?" he asks
I try to give a sense of distance
"Can I fly there in a rocket?"
"Yes," I say, "One day."
Returning, after he's nodded off,
A shiver of dread runs through me:
I resolve to interest him in soil and trees.
Stomping off to bed in a sulk
He pauses to look at the moon
I mention it, he shrugs
I try to interest him in soil and trees
Yeah, like that's going to happen.