Winter Iii - Children Find Their Way
The jelly beans of polished stones
Are lined up on the windowsill
Of our kitchen
Melting on the winter tongue
Of January’s narrow sun
Collected by my daughter
And devoured by her special care
For all things on Earth.
She carried the rocks in her pockets
Fingers caressing them to oblong dots
While her eyes fidgeted and followed
Whatever darkness loomed before her
Aware of Plato’s dangerous snare
For the rabbit foot of Body
Or the fox nose of Soul
Nobody knows
What comes first or what will last
And at the bottom of Elysian’s Hill
I watched as she swung her legs
Over a sunken saddled fence of snow
To enter a frozen orchard
The weight of those stones
No burden to her
Pulling her along
With the gravity she had granted them
In her own faithful way
While the craggy moon
Up there
Strained at the fondle of its blue harness
Shining its white light to my daughter’s face
She looks back to me
Pointing to something
Perhaps the umbilical of space
From where she’s been to where she’s going
Nothing more
Now
But for her row of worries lined up before me
As I wash an apple in the double sink
Looking through the wispy cross hairs
Of this barren kitchen window.
Copyright © Robert Trezise Jr. | Year Posted 2021
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