Sunday, May 11, 2014

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Happy birthday, Daughter

(for Alyssa, January 17)

You were born
in winter’s cold: snow chased
and pushed us forward just in time
to push you out.  We joke about
Macbeth and McDuff. The wind pushed
rather than your mom. Untimely
ripped you were from her: tiny
but hardy, strong enough to
subdue any tyrant who
tried to stop the moving wood

or the wind who gave you birth.