Ball of fire

This morning, 
my nephew had a storm 
dripping out of his smile. 
A tornado dancing in his soul. 
A blizzard making snow angels 
in his stomach. 
His legs were two bold 
Earthquakes, rowdy enough 
to remix a stampede.

So, 
if you try to tell me there 
wasn’t a volcano erupting 
inside of his chest, 
I would look you in the eyes 
and know exactly who 
Mickey Finned his milk 
with stardust.

Because right now 
his spirit is out of 
this world. 
And the thunder 
in his laugh 
brings out the lightning 
in his eyes.

So I just hope when 
he grows older, 
he never forgets 
that even when 
he falls like an avalanche, 
he should still rise like a tsunami.