8 Running with My Sons Two of them home by chance the same weekend! I fight a fear that’s like Ben Jonson’s fear, Of being too glad of having them down here Running abreast with me on the hard smooth sand. And all the better it is for being unplanned: I have no heed for shorebirds, or the clear Sunlight inside the wavelets rippling near, Or other runners, or the familiar blend Of surf- and gull-noise. — One of them sprints away Spattering through the shallows like a pup, I say to the other “Don’t let me hold you up,” And off he spurts. I watch them happily. How they shine! across the difference of years, And will shine in my day fears and night fears. 17