Tracey Gratch: Natalie, At Four

She asks why the wind is invisible,
if the sun, goes in a box when it’s night.
I give her the answers, invincible;
I explain earth’s rotation, daylight.
Then I tell her about revolution —
how earth circles the sun once a year.
In her mind, she has drawn a conclusion —
she says, The sun must get dizzy up there.

Enchanted, disarmed, by her innocence,
though I know well such virtue can’t last,
in time, I'll lose my omnipotence —
I predict slamming doors, great impasse.
One day, she'll say: Mom, you're horrible.
I’ll think of her — four, and adorable.