Sonnet CCLXV

His bones were light, much lighter than my brother’s now.
I felt his weight and found my awe-struck self aware
of what he weighed. Accustomed to a burden’s fare,
his feather-heaviness was welcome to my bow.

A child’s magnitude, however, weighs a cloud.
What lightness shall belie, a tantrum will repair;
how little years mislead, commanding ways make rare;
what innocence portrays is shattered by a growl.

Their paradox: a double personality,
a drop and perseverant anger fills the sea.

These things I thought while gently prodding him along,
amazed at how compliant he could seem;
while deep within there lay a monstrous, wicked beast,
which once provoked would never cease to shriek its song.