Caleb, on Waking

That morning, he opened his eyes,
Got out of bed,
Brushed away my interference,
And ran to the playroom door.

He flung it open with a flourish and an enormous grin,
Then, amid cheering from his brothers,
Ran to the far corner
Where he lay on his belly,
Head down,
Waiting for us to ask,
“Where is Caleb?”

Then he looked up,
With groggy eyes and cheeks still slack from sleep,
Laughed,
And put his head down again.

Some mornings he wakes crying,
But this delight I was glad to witness.