On a wind blown Tuesday, when the sky was dark and his eyes so bright.
Clad in Mommy's favorite sweater, with the little blue arrows and the ugly paint stain.
Those fat little hands tossing rocks against the wall.
Cars racing by.
His wild ways working curiously at some kind of mid-day adventure
Brewing bravely in his little boy heart.
For a moment, when he was newly three.
And so perfectly so.