Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Mugsy, happy birthday to you.

Your son is in Iraq? Oh my, Frannie—my thoughts are with you and especially with him.

Frannie, My heart really goes out to you with a son in Iraq. My son is everything to me…so I can well imagine your complex feelings and constant unease. Here’s two poems I wrote for my son, and for all sons. The first when he was born and I was 17. And the second is decades later for all those proud and joyous days in between. Prayers to you, your family and your son. —— Dance water on the shores of the world Dressed in moonlit phosphorescence To the heartbeat of the universe. Forests in Brazil, Norway and Maine; Magnificently green and wet with rain. Hear the age-old prayers whispered into starry skies, And answer with your fragrant sighs that all is right. In canyons blazing red with glorious dawn, Swope and swirl gorgeous birds of dawn, Awaken rose and lilac with your song. Ring out church bells! Doves alight! Sun triumph in the shadows. All is bright. Look! My Son is born. __________ It should be simple to say why you’d never love any of the other 6.6 billion people on the planet. As much, or the way, you love your son. It should be easy to explain this person. Who gave birth to you as much as you channeled him here. But it isn’t simple, or easy. Primal loves go to the center of the universe, and the edges of it too, and contain, in their unique way, all there is. They are a bond that will not diminish in time, because they are a distinct spiritual force in time. Standing on their own, and together, like the four physics forces. I could speak about his physical enchantments, and recite his achievements, virtues, and gifts. Or say that when he entered a room, at two, or four, or six, or sixteen, or twenty-six that the quality of air and light and time and conceptions of that hour, and all potentialities, changed too. I could show the photos and letters of a lifetime; laugh and cry at those million moments of fun, and adventure, and sorrow, and daring. And express pride that his life has been one continuous act of selfless courage, charm, and caring. But to say too much would intrude on a discrete and other-oriented man. When we speak the world runs away. When we are together there is some kind of magical everything, in a bubble, all contained right there. If we walk on the beach and say nothing, it doesn’t matter, because everything is in his just being there. Uni-verse means one unifying song. Its nature is essentially creativity and grace, with everything at once mirroring and containing its other side. My essential nature is creative. His is grace. Beyond eternity my first blessing is my Son.