My nephews are asleep,
their hands held tightly
over their eyes. My brother,
more impressive to me now than
ever before, is outside in the
cold, biting carrots left for the deer.
he proudly says that he can’t make deer tracks
because his sons will know they’re fake.
He’ll fall asleep tonight, his arm around
his wife and will be woken
in a nut full of hours by the
children who now so soundly sleep.
Grow as I may, my brother will
always be a giant to me.