Before He was Him

tree dahlias in bloom, fifteen feet tall and straight as
that day we took our baby for a walk in his basic red backpack
it rained minutely, spattering the road, goading us to take him home
but we stayed and roamed the streets, admiring the maple leaf changes
and allowing him to sleep, his little head lolling to the side
blonde hair flying up in a crest, lips pouting in his sleep
and then our outing over, going home, he woke and asked for a drink
but it's winter when I close the album, as he comes in from school
and grunts at me whilst shutting the door, then goes straight to raid the fridge
all in the evening light that is greying like my hair.