ALT Nostos                             for my son   Can we talk about the moon? About the way it isn't done with us, not at all? The way it comes into our houses like a child with a boot full of sparrows and sits at the foot of the bed and says you will be changed. It's true.  You will. I am trying to tell you you won't be ready. I am trying to tell you joy is a wild flock that only visits our branches. And yet  it stays; they stay sometimes, those ghosts.   Love, this poem was going to be so long, so full of the stories that I wrote for you, heroes and goblins and new  moons,  but I hear you now calling from the other room and I'm on my way to lie in quiet beside you and lay my hand on the sparrow of your little heart that sings and sings and won't stay when it wakens. Everyone is born so far from home. —Joseph Fasano