When I pick him up at his day care place,
he’s been asleep, and is, as his mother

said he would be, sweaty, a bit dazed.
I bring the car seat out to my car while

his daycare mom helps him with his shoes
and jacket. His face is clear,

smooth as a leaf of grass. His eyes
are half-moon slices of blue sky.

When I drive, he doesn’t talk, and I can’t
tell if that’s because he doesn’t want to

distract me from the road or if he can’t
think of anything amusing to say.

I watch him in the rearview mirror,
and sometimes he smiles and waves.