Poem for my son

I scribbled this today for Paddy. There's a lot of factual truth in it, which is probably while it came out very quickly, and I might cut out the tsunami/whirlpool bit. It's not really been edited.
P would be well embarrassed! But I hope whoever reads it can sense the transience and strength of childhood. Also the impending physicality and closeness of Pan, who for me stands for much that is fertile and fecund.
Interestingly, according to the historian Plutarch, Pan is the only Greek god (other than Asclepius) who actually dies.
I like it that P has this interest in Ancient Greek - we're kind of learning about it together. He has professed a desire to go to Mount Olympus. And I'm glad that Paddy, who has a growing collection of Nike football boots, appreciates their namesake.


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