Sunday, July 11, 2010
Who knew that a daughter could become a muse
Spurring aesthetic ecstasy
My own private model
Moving gracefully through meadow and still waters.
Though you are at an age most consider awkward
You don't catch a deer looking ungainly
and it is hard to find you other than lovely.
You are kind to the young and helpless
Beloved by toddlers--a good measure of character.
And you can put a turkey poult to sleep
With a gentle massage to its tiny skull.
Look, Mommy, he loves this.
Fearless, you vault into space
and cartwheel along
Your young bones limber
Your ankles still resilient.
I'd love to live in that willowy body
Just for a day. All right, a few hours.
To feel that spring, that lightness
That I once had and now fight to regain.
You are baking now, cookies and cakes and bars
Happily making just the things I must avoid.
I can't deny you the joy of creating, so we eat some and give the rest away.
The struggle goes on. But not for you.
You've too much sense to text while driving
Having fallen in and then out of love with your cellphone
Granting that privilege early worked fine
For you are a child of sense and sensibility.
Yes, you'll be driving only two years hence
And I will watch you disappear
Trusting your instincts and your reflexes
To bring you safely home again.
But I won't think about that now.
You're fourteen and beautiful
And I'll keep you here like a butterfly
Until it's time to let you go.