Monday, 1 November 2010


When a magical child is born,
tiny fingers reach and curl,
little feet are focused on,
each nail an obvious miracle

and once I saw a family trot
beside a pram with Grandma pushing,
Father held up a parasol
to protect a sleeping tot from heat

and Mother used a large and painted
Japanese fan to keep it cool:
a focused scene of mad control
trundling down a cloudy seaside

street: immutable and soundly safe
as if a human cage protects a soul emerged, a life.

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