John, I was a bit confounded by this poem at first as it's so unlike anything else I've seen from you, but now that it's been bumped again it's settled in. This line is haunting:
As I searched I thought
I caught the scent
of a freshly washed child
hurrying past although
I am not certain
At first I read it as you not having children, but I think I'm recalling that you're a grandparent, so it must be a child of years past. It's haunting because I'm now watching my own boys slip through my fingers. I still feel like a new parent and the older one is already starting school this year.
Also haunting because you can see how terrifying and heartwrenching parenting really is. Not only do they leave you, but they could leave you for good. And it's a reminder to appreciate the days you're with them, no matter how difficult the mechanics are.
And the other read works well too, that you'd never had kids and are looking at the past in regret, walking aimlessly through a large, empty house.
I'm also picking up some feeling from Buddhism, but that may only be because I know that you practice, and I tend to read your poems through that lens.
On the whole I found this one very moving, and don't think I'd change anything. The way it meanders and uses direct language, as if you're talking to yourself, waiting for your kids to come home or your wife to join you, is perfect.
Thanks for posting.
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