NaPoWriMo 25/Poem for Poetry Thursday

This post should be titled, "when good poems go bad." Oh, the villanelle--the tawdry wench to my NaPoWriMo. At some point, I broke form and couldn't make the rhymes work (see "unfurl" and "bird.") Maybe I'll come back to it since NaPoWriMo is coming to a close, thank goodness. But for now, I'll just let it be and go on to read your brilliant Poetry Thursday posts.

Prestidigitation

My son stops the wind with his hands
Turns leaves into water, makes closed blossoms unfurl
In child’s play we create what does not exist

With a stick he is a wizard where he stands
making the low sky dance, twist, and curl
My son stops the wind with his hands

He tells me one day he will be a man,
as he kicks the leaves the air starts to whirl
In child’s play we create what does not exist

I push him on a park swing, his feet graze the sand
His hide-and-seek smile forms inside like a pearl
My son stops the wind with his hands

X marks the spot of his buried treasure plans
His pirate of a mom once an ordinary girl
In child’s play we create what does not exist

One day you’ll work your magic, do what you can
Throw bread crusts in the air, become a bird
My son stops the wind with his hands
In child’s play we create what does not exist