Aug's Eyes

There is such depth to my son's gray eyes. Around his pupils are green and yellow- so mysterious yet so familiar. The shape of his eyes resmeble mine- big. The color and mystery- his father's. I always wonder what that little boy is thinking about. I wonder if by looking deep into his eyes I can tell that he is crying out, desiring articulate his very need. It's really in the morning that his eyes do cry out. They cry out with joy, though. His eyes, arms, and legs rejoice that it is morning. That must be one of the best things about August Mileston Butler that when I am dragging in the morning he is a refreshed little boy, transformed and filled with joy. That joy is so evident when I peak over the edge of the crib, pick him up and turn him around. When our eyes meet I forget about my fatigue; I peer deep into his eyes.