From above

You have a girl
you have a boy
you have another boy.
She's an angel
whose wings get regular dustings
and every so often a prayer.
Meantime her brothers groan
from growing bones

so you keep getting reminded
there aren't many days left
until their eyes count
your gray hairs
from above.

He grew two inches taller this summer
with a darkening upper lip
revealing an ephemeral baritone whenever he speaks
to an adult or orders take-out
but when he bosses his brother around
a teen tenor.

He took up fishing, now
tying knots and devouring fish
books while throwing back the catch
patiently casting and trolling
often reeling in nothing
but smiles.

Their eyes count
tears still, though, sometimes
from a load of homework, more often fists or taunts
and every once from missing

her