Poetry: Stairway from Heaven

Stairway from Heaven

My nephew, now a noted astrophysicist,
toddled down steep, awkward cabin stairs
one extended-family Adirondack vacation,
to ask each of the adults: “Are I baby Jesus?”

Now, perhaps, his cosmic inwardness basks
amidst so-called heavens with an expansive
sense of reality suitably immense enough
to encompass whatever reality may proffer,

knowing that, despite dark matter and deaths
of stars, nothing but nothing that breathes air
is ever alone in this world.

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