closing out the light

no one showed
you how
to throw a ball.
how to grip it,
or where to put
your arm.
you just
went out into
the street
and did so.
for hours, for
months, for
endless summers.
and now,
with your son
across
an ocean of land,
in his world,
you remember
those days with
him, closing
out the light
with another spiral
falling
from the stars.