Sunday Morning Miracles

my son thinks I’m amazing
because I can catch
the tiny spotted toads that swarm the riverbank
with my bare hands

he runs after them as they
retreat into the long wild grasses
smacking his hands together as he
tries to anticipate where they’ll jump next

and I
amaze him because I can reach down
slip my fingers under their fragile velvet bodies
and pluck them from the cool green stones
of cattail rushes, finding their hiding places
every time, like magic

remembering myself
at his age
I’m a little amazed at the ease of it all
myself